


underneath the city lights

by theneverending



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Fluff, Harry is a journalist, It's a bit of a mess, Kissing, Liam is Harry's boss, Louis is a dancer, M/M, New York, Niall is also a dancer, Paul runs a burlesque club, Swearing, Zayn is a bartender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theneverending/pseuds/theneverending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a starving journalist who needs someone to spark his inspiration and Louis is a lonely talent at the local burlesque, and maybe they can be just what the other needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from my previous account.

Harry can’t decide which sound he hates more: the god awful groaning coming from the old office printer or the wheezing fan that’s circling the dusty room with “fresh air”. Even though both of the noises together made him want to rip his ears off, there was something worse.

The stern voice coming from his boss’ tongue, lecturing him once again on how his column for The Times was once again becoming a bore to the public.

“Look, kid, you’ve got a lot of talent, really, but what you’re doing right now isn’t interesting enough for you to be writing about. When I read your columns, I picture an 80 year old man in a taupe, not a 21 year old boy with hair curlier than a clowns.” Harry’s boss, Liam, spits out, dangling his lit cigar from his lip.

The same disquisition was given to Harry by his boss almost monthly now. It was always the same old thing, Harry was bright, Harry had talent, Harry was this, Harry was that, but the one thing Harry wasn’t was comfortable with the columns he had been producing.

It wasn’t the Harry’s columns were necessarily _awful_ , it was just that they weren’t what Harry wanted to write. And honestly, Harry wasn’t even sure what he _wanted_ to write either. It was like his whole career path had hit a wall at this point, and he was running out of options.

“I have a proposition,” Liam said when he realized he had lost Harry’s attention, and was desperate to get it back. As planned, Harry’s head shot up, his forest green eyes meeting Liam’s.

“And what would that be?” Harry asks, pushing a hand through his hair and finding the pen the he kept behind his ear. Harry propped the pen in his hand, hovering it eagerly above his notepad as he waited for Liam to continue.

Liam decided to ignore what he just saw and he began talking again, “I think I’ve finally figured out what your writing is good for,” Liam waits, letting Harry sit in suspense for a minute before continuing, “Nonsense.”

Harry blinks back, his expression unreadable, “What?”

“Nonsense, as in doesn’t make sense,” Liam stated in a matter of fact type of tone.

Still bewildered, Harry is still giving him an odd stare. Liam sighs, shaking his head and removing the lit cigar from his mouth.

“What I mean by that, is that your writing would be great for something doesn’t really justify itself for an article, but it’s still interesting and attention grabbing.” Liam explains, watching Harry’s pink lips form into an o-shape.

“Honestly,” Harry clears his throat and leans back in his chair, “I’m still confused as to what you’re talking about.”

“I’m giving you one more shot,” Liam says, finally getting to the point, “And trust me, this is going to be your big break. I rarely offer this detail to anyone, _especially_ a 21 year old intern.”

Harry sits back upright, resuming the position he was in before, “Talk to me, boss.”

Liam smiles, “A spot opened up at our office firm in New York, and I want _you_ to fill that spot. At least for a while, that is.”

Jaw slacking, Harry looked at Liam with wide eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“That’s not all, I have a penthouse there that you’re welcome to stay in, and I’ll be giving you a credit card for your living expenses, but don’t spend it all in one place.” Liam winks, and Harry tries to let all this set in.

“So I’m going to New York?” Harry asks, his mind still processing what the hell was even being told to him right now.

Nodding, Liam responds, “Yes, that’s right.

The whole room was spinning and Harry’s legs felt like static on the television screen. He had so many questions about so many things, but decided to stow most of his worries into the back of his mind, only asking one question.

“What will I do there? In New York. For the column. Paper.” Harry says, his mouth spitting out whatever he could think of.

“It’s up to _you_. Find something that interests you in the streets of New York, learn everything you can about it, write a spread, and take a flight back to London, using your emergency credit card, of course.” Liam smirks, stubbing his cigar in the ash tray that he had brought along with him when he came into Harry’s office because god knows Harry would never have one laying around.

Harry ponders for a second, letting his mind simmer and he wonders if he really wants to do this. Everything was paid for, well, for _him_ of course, but it would be a whole new life in a whole new place, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to start over again.

On the flip side, he could absolutely love it there and want to drop his job at the firm and make a living in New York. Harry could see everything that he never even dreamed of because New York _was_ the place where dreams come true.

Without a further thought, Harry reached his hand across the table and grasped Liam’s hand, shaking it violently and a beaming expression on his face, “We’ve got ourselves a deal, boss.”

“Great,” Liam replies excitedly, “I’ll arrange a plane for you for as soon as possible, and I’ll get that card to you as soon as possible. You’re good for the day.”

Liam tips his hat, exiting Harry’s office and slamming the door behind him, the blinds swishing at breakneck speed.

When Harry was positive that he was alone, he jumped out of his seat, energetically sprinting across the room to relieve his excitement. After his two minute freak out, Harry grabbed his notepad and pen and was ready to go. Harry threw his coat over his shoulder, straightened his hat on top of his head, dramatically blew his office a kiss before giving it a once over for the last time in a while, and left the building.

\--

Surprisingly, Harry has never been on a plane prior to today and after the sights he’d seen at the airport, he was pretty sure he never wanted to have that experience again.

The people were loud and bustling, some of them even having first-timers like Harry, but contrary to him, these were children. Extremely, vocal children who cried about the popping in their ears or their fear of heights. So Harry spent most of his venture with his bulky headphones jammed over his ears, blaring the sound of his most soothing music and whatnot.

Almost seven hours later, Harry was unbuckling his seat belt and pulling his luggage from the storage area above. Harry got off the plane, bustling through tons of other people that were going to have the same experiences as him. He thought it was rather amusing that this was such a big event in his life and he got to share it with no one else but almost 200 strangers.

The hallways were narrow and cramped with bodies, causing Harry's claustrophobia to kick in. When he made it out of the door at last, he escaped to the nearest bathroom, which was tiny as well. Harry fetched his inhaler out of his carry on bag, taking a huff out of the object before tucking it away safely and taking a wee.

The only thing scarier than his first flying experience was his reflection in the mirror when he stepped out of the stall. His skin was milky white except for the purple semi circles forming under his eyes. Harry's usually fluffy curls were ruffled up into an unruly mess, poking out from every angle of his head. Harry sighed, attempting to fix his zombie-like appearance best he could.

When he thought he looked halfway presentable, Harry exited the bathroom to the airport, which thankfully wasn't as intimidating as before. Sighing, Harry made his way through the remaining people that were waiting, avoiding eye contact with anyone he passed by.

Several minutes later, Harry was standing on the curb with a couple others, waiting for the next available taxi to pass. He contemplated walking to his penthouse, but decided against it, not knowing which roads to take and even worse, he was scared that he would get jumped or raped or something.

So Harry waved down the next cab that he saw, quickly jumping into the backseat and reciting off the address that he'd been repeating in his head for the last fifteen minutes. The driver nodded, stepping on the gas and taking the streets to Harry's new penthouse.

Harry rested his chin on the side of the car door, pressing his nose against the glass and taking in the sights of his new city. The pictures he'd seen in the brochure that Liam had given him didn't give this place justice at all, only showing a smidgen of the life and beauty of New York. He took in the sites of the shining lights and the flashing signs and all of the happy people, his stomach filling with butterflies when he realized that he would eventually become on of them.

"We're here, kid. Five." The driver said, holding out his palm.

Harry fished through his pockets and found some of the American dollars that Liam had given him before he boarded the plane and placed them in the drivers hand. "Here, thanks."

"No problem, and welcome to New York." The driver winked, turning back to the front of his vehicle as Harry stepped out, struggling to keep all of his luggage together.

The building was huge, probably bigger than anything he'd ever seen up close. Harry's knees quivered knowing that his new home was at the top of the building, but he tried to push that thought out of his mind.

Harry trudged up the steps to his new home, glancing up at shining windows above and smiling. A bolt of electricity ran through his body as he reached for the door, tugging on the handle and not feeling it open. Embarrassed, Harry pushed the door open and hoped that none of the people roaming the streets had seen that.

The inside of the building lobby was absolutely beautiful, making Harry's breath welt up in his lungs. The lobby was magnificent in Harry's eyes, a chandelier bigger than his shack back in London was dangling from the ceiling, the lights reflecting off the large windows. The room was decorated neatly with whites and browns, maroon carpet leading to an elevator, which Harry invited himself into. He pressed his index finger onto the button for the top floor, drumming his fingers against his thighs as the elevator rose.

The chrome doors opened to a lush foyer, a pristine white door awaiting Harry's entrance. Harry fumbled for the keys in his jacket pocket, his hands shaking in anticipation for what was on the other side of the door. Harry fit the key into the lock, twisting the door handle open and standing in awe in front of his new home.

Penthouses weren't a commonplace for Harry, the exceeding of his privileges being the backyard of Liam's mansion that he interviewed for his internship at. But this was probably the most magnificent that young Harry had ever run into, let alone _lived_ in.

Accents of eggshell and oak filled the room, coloring all objects ranging from counter tops to couches, and even the fireplace matched the furniture. The entire living area looked clean cut and upright, the only splash of tone being the vase of red roses on the coffee table. Harry had barely noticed the note that was tied around the neck of the clear vase, hesitating walking over the white carpet without taking his shoes off.

Harry kicked off his charcoal loafers by the door and abandoned his luggage, padding across the plush carpet to the coffee table. Harry sat down on the couch, sinking comfortably into the cushion as he reached for the card that was attached to the string, pushing the top layer over with his thumb.

_'hope these get here before you do, enjoy x -liam'_

Smiling, Harry let the note fall from his fingers and relaxed back into the couch, taking in his new surroundings. It was a lot to get used to after spending his nights in his lonely office, more recently a shack he'd been renting from an elderly woman who let him stay there at barely any cost, just paying his way through the manual labor that she couldn't do anymore. It was difficult to tell her that he'd be gone for a while, but she understood and wished him luck, kissing his cheek and watching him walk away to his new destiny.

Now here he was, in a penthouse that surely cost over a million dollars, resting his sock-clad feet on a glass coffee table that more than likely cost more than his entire wardrobe.

Harry lingered there for a while, trying to calm his nerves that were surely about to burst out of his body if he didn't calm down. When he felt stable, Harry stood up, stumbling over, dizzying as he felt the blood rush to his head. When the feeling had passed, Harry walked over to his luggage and hauled it into the bedroom, which was even more lovely than the rest of his new home, if that was possible.

Golden mirrors covered the striped walls, Harry's tired reflection being shown from a hundred different angles. The feel of the room was the same as the rest of the penthouse, the bed laced with white bedding and about a billion pillows that Harry would have to remove and never put back again.

Harry decided to ignore that task for now, violently dropping his suitcases onto the bed. Sighing, Harry unzipped the luggage and removed a pair of pajama bottoms, setting them to the side so he could put them on later. It took about thirty minutes for Harry to empty his luggage and to put all of his belongings in the once bare dresser drawers. After it was all put away, Harry pushed the unneeded luggage into the back of his closet because he hoped he wouldn't have to see it for a long time.

A quick shower later, Harry was tucked neatly into his new king size bed, staring out the window at the cars passing by and the people roaming the streets. His chest felt heavy with excitement because this was the start of his new life, his real life.

\--

The streets of New York were actually quite boring in the morning, only full of businessmen speeding through traffic for work and police officers pulling into the nearest doughnut shops. The people seemed like they all had places to be at an exact time and were a lot more uptight than the people Harry had seen the night before. Harry liked the night people better, the ones that had all the time in the world to have the times of their lives.

Harry spent a fair amount of time mulling around the streets, pointing and shooting his camera at interesting things he saw. Only once did he stop for some coffee and a bagel, sitting by the window of the small corner shop downtown. Harry flipped through the newspaper, reading mindlessly over the articles about crimes and lost puppies.

Not fulfilling his interests, Harry flipped to the advertisements page in hopes to find a new hotspot for him to visit, and to possibly find his muse. Movies theaters and restaurants galore filled the sheet, but an ad for the local burlesque club was the one that made Harry's wandering stop, causing him to lean closer into the typed words.

_'Best talent in the city, all right here at the Underground Burlesque! Featuring the talents of everyone's guilty pleasure, Niall Horan! Come in Friday evening for the annual show!'_

Harry wasn't sure why, but he was awfully intrigued. The thoughts of the dancing and the music and the nightlife swarmed Harry's body again, making him want to squeal in his seat. Harry checked the weekday of the happening again, counting down on his finger to see how long he had to wait.

Nerves of excitement shivered through his legs as he realized that today was Friday, and he definitely wouldn't miss this chance for the world.

\--

It was finally time for the club to open, and Harry had made in just in time. A man dressed in all black was standing firmly outside the door, asking Harry for identification. Luckily, he had been weary enough to bring it along, awkwardly showing his ID card to the intimidating man. Without a second glance, the man gave Harry a nod of approval, signaling him to go through the single door in front of him.

For being an annual occurrence, the winding staircase leading to wherever the hell Harry was going was eery and creepily empty. As he closed to the door, chatter and piano tones could be heard, and Harry sighed, hoping that he wasn't late.

He wasn't. Well, maybe just a little bit.

The room was magnificent, multicolored lights flashing around the room, gliding over occupied tables and reflecting off the mirrors at back of the room. The stage was covered mostly by a curtain, but the only visible part was set up as one would expect for a burlesque show, a piano on the left side, and a stairwell leading up to the main stage, but it was empty for now, besides the young man tapping his fingers on the black and white keys of the piano.

The people, on the other hand, all looked stunning compared to Harry's mild outfit choice. The women were dolled up in the prettiest silks, flowing from their shoulders to their toes, which were accomponied by heels the length of a premature baby. The men looked dashing as well, tailored in their finest suits and tops hats resting upon their heads, shoes polished to absolute perfection.

So yes, Harry looked frumpy in a button-up shirt paired with slacks that he wore to work.

And since he was just here for work purposes only, Harry decided against introducing himself to a new group of people (more than likely in an awkward manner, mind you), and hopped up onto a bar stool, admiring the empty stage from afar,

"Can I get you something?" A raspy voice asks, nearly scaring Harry into falling onto the floor.

"No thanks, just here for work stuff." Harry replied, nervously folding his fingers back.

The bartender responded with an excited tone in his voice, "Are you applying to be a waitress?"

"Um, no." Harry answered, trying to look away from the bartender once again, hoping that he'd get the queue that he didn't want to talk.

"Are you here to audition for being in the burlesque, because Paul isn't-"

"No, no. You see, I'm a journalist, and I'm looking for a new muse. I was hoping this would be a good place? I don't know, it sparked my interest." Harry explained, giving away a lot more detail to the bartender than he ever wanted.

The other man nodded, "Ah, so you're looking for Niall Horan."

"Well, no. Isn't he like, the prodigy? Or am I just twisting the words in your advertisement?" Harry asked, walking on eggshells so he wouldn't harm anyone's feelings.

"Pretty much, he's a star," The bartender responded, placing his hands onto the counter in front of Harry, "The most famous person we got, the people come for him. It's like the Niall Horan show."

"That's the exact opposite of what I'm looking for." Harry states, slanting his lips.

The bartender shrugs, "Then don't watch him, keep your eyes on a couple of dancers Paul shoves in the back. Now _there's_ the talent you're looking for."

"Thanks," Harry smiles, "I'm Harry, by the way. What's your name? I didn't happen to catch it before."

"Zayn, just yell for me if you need me." Zayn says with a wink, moving his way over to the woman at the other side of the bar that was attempting to capture his attention.

Not believing that he had made an unlikely acquaintance with the bartender, Harry spun back around in his seat, folding his arms over his chest as he observed the people surrounding him. They all seemed to be having a swell time, muttering names and places that Harry had yet to know. Of course, he did hear Niall's name mentioned quite a while throughout conversations, roaring praise following afterwords.

According to everyone else, Niall seemed to be the best there ever was, but Harry would have to be the judge of that. He was absolutely sure that he could find someone that could outshine their prodigy in a second if he really tried.

And without time for another thought to pass his mind, it was time for the show to begin. The lights dimmed back to the stage, and the curtain rose slowly to reveal the group of boys, dressed in silver, flashy outfits that reflected the colored lights back into the faces of the audience. A soft piano started, and the front man, who Harry assumed was Niall, began to lip sync along with some Marilyn Monroe track.

Watching Niall was like watching the most popular girl in school at her cheerleading meet, she was the star and everyone knew it, but there was always someone could probably smoke her in a battle if it ever came down to it.

Harry had a difficultly finding someone who overshadowed the boy, but none of the other dancers were at his level. Then he recalled what Zayn had said earlier, that the owner stuck the hidden talents in the back so they wouldn't take the attention away from the star of the show.

Poking his head above the crowds, Harry examined the people in the back row of the dance block. It was hard to tell what they looked like because the dancers were incredible, moving their bodies at lightening speed and hitting all of the moves in unison.

Chills crept up at the nape of Harry's neck as Zayn whispered in his ear, "Back line, far right. Seems like a pretty good pick."

Harry gazed to where Zayn was talking about, and that's when he was positive that he'd found exactly who he was looking for.

There was a boy, no older than Harry, was probably the fiercest of the bunch. He had rhythm, and acted like he was the leader of the group, not Niall. Harry watched him intently, squinting his eyes to get a better look at his face. The boy resembled a fairy, his features soft but striking at the same time. Harry noticed that he had blue eyes that sparkled in the stage lights, but also with passion and determination.

"Do you know his name?" Harry asked, barely taking his attention away from the boy, hoping that Zayn was still behind him.

"Louis, he's been here since he was only a kid, like 16 years old I think? I don't know, it's been a while, but he's really got some competition on Horan." Zayn responds, washing a glass with the washrag in his hand.

Harry nods, taking a longer gaze at the boy. He continues to watch him throughout the entire show, Louis never missing a beat and fumbling his footwork. Harry thought he was absolutely perfect compared to everyone else and knew exactly what he was doing at all time like it was instinct.

The show only last about six songs, all of them led by the lip syncing wonder Niall Horan. Harry observed that the rest of the boys were merely just for show, and no one really payed attention to the back up dancers. He thought it was sad because most of the talent that held the show together was through the other dancers and not just the front man, like everyone else seemed to think.

So when the last tune of the piano made its mark, the crowd roared with applause, the boys linking arms and bowing their torsos, but Niall stood front and center, blowing kisses to his public. Harry scoffed, averting his eyes to the boy he had been watching the entire show.

Louis looked pretty under the lights, caramel colored hair swept to the side of his head, glitter resting on his cheekbones (which made his extremely blue eyes sparkle in the light), and his thin lips doused with a red color. Harry thought he was absolutely gorgeous, and he was determined to make him the subject of his column.

And every Friday night for five weeks, Harry found himself in the same bar stool at the Burlesque club, chatting with Zayn the bartender and gawking at the boy with feathery hair and baby blue eyes.

"Maybe you should try approaching Louis, this whole 'admiring from afar' thing you have going on doesn't seem to be working out." Zayn smirks, placing the glass of seabreeze down in front of Harry.

Harry sighs, because this is the same thing that Zayn says to him every time he's in here.

"How would I even go about doing that? I mean, wouldn't it be uncomfortable telling him that I've been watching him for weeks now and that I want to write a column about him?" Harry asks, swirling his ice cubes in his drink around with his straw.

Zayn shrugs, "I don't know man, he's kind of a tough cookie if you know what I mean. Really stubborn and a little dramatic."

Harry purses his lips, not believing Zayn at first, but then realizing Zayn probably knew him better since they were coworkers in a sort. Harry was just some guy who was a regular and just happened to want to write about him.

"It doesn't hurt to try, right?" Zayn assures, and Harry smiles back.

"Thanks Zayn." Harry responds, sipping out of his drink.

When the show ended and the curtain went down, Harry hopped off the bar stool to avoid the crowds and gave Zayn a goodbye before escaping through a door which he hoped led backstage.

The room Harry had just entered had a sickly smell of perfume and make up powder, making him feel woozy as he looked for someone who could appoint him to the fairly-like boy that he'd seen earlier.

"Who are you?" An older man asked, and Harry assumed that this must be Paul.

"I'm a journalist and I was interested in writing about one of the dancers here?" Harry stated, his words coming together at the end like a question.

Paul nodded, "You must be looking for Niall. Niall!" He called out.

"No, I'm actually looking for a Louis? I talked to the bartender and he told me that was his name so I don't know if-"

"Oh, well that's a little unexpected. Um, Louis, can you come over here?" Paul yelled with a confused look on his face.

"Did you need me sir?" A young, blonde man asked, and Harry immediately recognized him as Niall.

Paul shook his head, "Misunderstanding, you're dismissed."

Niall gave a slight smile back, giving Harry an awkward glance before escaping from the circle of people and back to his vanity.

Louis approached, and Harry's mouth stayed agape because he was even more gorgeous up close, if that was possible.

"Yes, sir?" Louis asked, his voice dainty and innocent and it just made Harry's knees feel like gelatin.

"This young man would like to have a word with you if that's alright." Paul said firmly.

"'Course." Louis responded, turning his attention to Harry, "Yes?"

"I, uh," Harry's mind went hazy as he thought of something to say, sweating as he realized that Louis' eyes were peering patiently into his, "Wanted to compliment you on your expertise, you're a really great dancer."

Harry mentally kicked himself in the balls for sounding so lame.

"Oh, well, thank you." Louis responded, "If that's all you needed me for..." He said, turning away on his heel.

"No! I mean, wait," Harry shouted, louder than he meant to and getting a stare from the rest of the dancers, "I wanted to know if you wanted to like, help me work on something? I don't know, it's stupid but I-"

"Elaborate," Louis says, the pique in his eyebrow showing that he's intrigued.

Harry purses his lips, forming a sentence in his head before speaking so he doesn't sound like a total idiot.

"I'm a journalist and I was wondering if I could-"

"No." Louis responds, cutting him off once again. Louis crosses his arms over his robe-clad chest, walking back to his vanity without even giving Harry a second chance.

This was now or never, Harry could give up and scrap his last five weeks of determination and hard work (not really) to find something else to write about, probably not as interesting as Louis, but it would have to do.

Harry decided that he wasn't going to let him slip away.

He strode right over to Louis' vanity, staring at him from the side of the mirror as he applied powder to his cheeks. Harry freaked out inside for a second, worried that he might not even be able to speak in the presence of something so delicate, but he did.

"Just let me explain before you make your final decision," Harry started, Louis still ignoring him, "Please."

With the last plead, Louis turned his attention back to the curly-haired boy.

"Go on." Louis sighed, rolling his eyes, and Harry noticed how long his eyelashes were up close.

"Like I said, I'm a journalist from London and I was sent here to write a creative piece about whatever-or whoever- I found interesting," Harry smiled, inhaling deeply, "And well, I chose you."

Louis' facial expression is unreadable, and the silence between them is awkward.

"Why do you find _me_ so interesting?" Louis asks, breaking the stillness.

Harry gulps, choosing his words carefully so he won't say something that will throw Louis off, "You're probably the most talented person here. You always know exactly what you're supposed to be doing and you're always on point, even when the other dancers are. It's fantastic, and I don't understand why you aren't the center of attention, because you deserve it. And I want you to have that, one way or another."

It's quiet again, but Harry can swear that Louis is  _blushing_ at him.

"You really think that?" Louis grins, his red lips making his white teeth pop.

"Um, yeah, why else would I trouble myself so much over making you the subject of my writing? I surely wouldn't of tried for a second chance." Harry exhales, forcing a look of plead on his face.

"Fine, I'm in. But I have some circumstances." Louis says, his voice firming again.

"Of course, your wishes are my command." Harry says cheesily, making Louis roll his eyes again.

Louis refocuses, staring deeply into Harry's eyes, making him squirm a bit, "For one, you let me stay with you, because I'm currently couch hopping."

"Done." Harry says, the king size bed from the penthouse automatically popping into his mind and sending shivers down his spine.

"And two, you can't fall in love with me." Louis says teasingly.

"No problem." Harry forces a smile back, secretly hoping that Louis was only kidding because he wasn't sure he could keep that promise.

\--

About 20 minutes later, Harry is _finally_ getting up from the uncomfortable chair that more than likely made an indention on his bottom. He's been waiting for Louis to unwind from the show and to get some of his belongings together for the not so big move into Harry's penthouse.

"Sorry it took so long, glitter mascara is a pain in the ass to get off." Louis laughs, his face looking fresher and less caked on than it did during and after the show. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a bulky sweater.

Harry still thought he was beautiful.

"It's alright, I guess we should get going then?" Harry asks, nodding his head toward the door.

"Yeah, that would be great," Louis exhales loudly, tightening his grip on the duffel bag that was resting in his arms, "How far from here do you live?"

Harry clicks his tongue, "I don't exactly have a license, so it'll probably be about a 30 minute walk, give or take a couple minutes."

Louis groans, "That's okay I guess. How old are you, anyway? I mean, you are old enough to have a drivers license, right?"

"Oh definitely, I just never got around it. I'm 21, I'm pretty much legal to do anything," Harry assures, closing the space between him and Louis, "How about I care that bag for you? It looks like it's troubling you."

Without having time to answer, Louis' hands were free from the weight of the bag.

"You didn't have to, but thanks." Louis smiles, walking towards the door, "You walk in front of me, I have to lock this place up."

After all the doors were locked, and Louis made sure they were locked. Oh yes, he had to check each door several times after locking it with the key. Harry didn't mind waiting, but his bag was extremely heavy. Harry wondered if Louis packed the thing with bricks and was trying to pull a fast one over him.

"Ready now, Lou?" Harry asked impatiently, penning a nickname for Louis.

Louis nods, walking alongside Harry on the concrete. It was quite nice outside, and people were still out on the strip. Bars were starting to open now, people buzzing in and out of the joints, laughing wildly with their ensemble. Harry smiled at the sidewalk, not wanting Louis to think he was just randomly smiling. He didn't Louis to think he was that weird.

"Why are you smiling at the sidewalk?"

"It's lame," Harry muttered out, craning his neck so he could look at Louis, "But I really like the atmosphere here. I don't know, the people here are more alive than they are back in London. It's nice."

Harry feels stupid as Louis just blankly looks at him for a second, then returning his eyes back to the sidewalk in front of him.

"I get what you mean, I love it here," Louis responds, "It's a magical place, for the most part."

"Do dreams really come true here, Lou?" Harry asked, loving the way Louis' name rolled off his tongue.

Louis shrugged, his shoulder sulking, "Sometimes. If you work really hard, you'll usually make it, but then again you can do everything in the world towards your dreams and you never fulfill them. It kinda sucks."

Harry's lips slanted, "You'll make it one day, one day you're going to be the star of that show."

"Not as long as Niall's around," Louis scoffed, "He's the reason for most of our buzz."

"But you're better." Harry spat out without thinking.

At first he was embarrassed, but he could see the blush on Louis' cheeks in the streetlights.

"You don't have to say that." Louis said humbly, the corners of his mouth raising into a tiny smile.

"It's true," Harry gushes again, "You should be the shining star of that show. I've only been like, admiring you from afar, I guess, but you're really amazing. Don't underestimate yourself."

Louis doesn't respond, just giving a cute little smile to Harry, which makes his heart melt in his chest.

And it didn't matter that Louis didn't say anything back, because they were back at Harry's establishment.

"We're here." Harry says, leading Louis up the steps and to the front door.

Louis audibly gasped when they walked through the front doors, and the look of the astonishment on his face was similar to Harry's when he first walked into the lobby almost 5 weeks ago.

Harry could tell that Louis was impressed with the atmosphere, and he obviously wasn't used to this kind of environment.

They walked to the elevator, Louis lagging a bit behind, admiring the interior the location.

It was a silent ride in the lift up to the room, which was very uncomfortable since they barely knew anything about each other and they were going to be living together. For all Harry knew, Louis could be a psyhco murderer or could have really odd fetishes or well-anything.

That's when Harry realized that they knew absolutely nothing about each other. Hell, Harry couldn't even tell you Louis' last name or his favorite book or what his favorite food was.

But he still felt connected enough to him to want to write an entire piece about him.

The elevator doors parted, Harry letting Louis walk out first as they approached his front door. Harry handed Louis' items back to him while he dug his keys out from his pocket, shoving the appropriate key into the doorknob and twisting it open. He retrieved the luggage back from Louis, stumbling behind him and shutting the door with him foot.

"How the hell did you afford this?" Louis asks breathlessly.

"I didn't." Harry responds, walking over to the couch and placing the bag onto the floor.

Louis gives him a look of concern, the whites of his eyes growing larger.

"What do you mean you didn't afford this? This _is_ your home, _isn't_ it?" Louis' said, his voice turning shrill.

"For now. My boss is letting me stay here until I'm done with the article." Harry elaborates, watching Louis sigh out of relief.

"Thought I was living with a criminal for a second." Louis responds.

Harry laughs, "It looked as if you were going to have a heart attack there, I'm not a criminal or anything, Louis."

"So am I going to be spending my nights on the couch which probably costs more than my pension?" Louis asks, changing the subject.

"If you'd like, or we can share the king-sized bed." Harry replies, waggling his eyebrows at Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes, "Please, Harry, do you really think I'm that easy? At least wait until my second night here to be a pervert."

"Hey now, I was just messing with you. I'll go hunt for some sheets or a blanket or something." Harry says, leaving Louis behind in the living room and heading to his bedroom in search of something that could keep Louis warm.

Thankfully, he had washed his second pair of sheets a couple days prior and he could spare having clean sheets for a couple days so Louis could use them. Harry whisks one of the extra blankets off the foot of his bed, then staring at the mountain of pillows on the floor with squinted eyes.

"Yo Lou, how many pillows do you need?" Harry yells loud enough for Louis to hear.

"Just one or two will be fine." Louis yells back.

"Are you sure that's all you need? I have like 30 in here." Harry says, laughing to himself as he picks up two pillows from the top of the stack and walks back into the living room.

"Yeah that will be-oh." Louis begins to say, but then stops when he sees that Harry is back in the room.

Harry tosses the items at Louis, mumbling, "Here."

Louis mutters out a 'thank you' as he tucks the sheets into the cushions, laying the blanket out on top of it, and placing the pillow at the head of the couch.

Watching awkwardly, Harry politely said, "I can show you where everything's at before I go to bed, if you want."

"I think I'll be fine, but thank you." Louis smiles, sitting cross-legged on top of his cot.

With this, Harry nods and gives him a small grin, turning on his heel and going back into his bedroom. He closes the door behind him, leaning his back against the wood and exhaling, the everlasting curl to his lips not fading.

Harry couldn't believe that he had convinced Louis had given him a second chance, or that Louis had actually agreed to this ordeal, and that right now Louis was tucking himself under the blankets on Harry's couch. The whole idea of this was so outrageous, and if it were Harry in Louis' shoes, he wouldn't have accepted the offer to be the centric of some stranger's workpiece.

Shaking out his curls, Harry pressed his hand to his head, the chill of his fingertips soothing the headache that was forming behind his forehead.

For now, Harry wanted to forget everything for about seven hours so he could catch up on the sleep that the blue-eyed starlet at the burlesque club was causing him to lose. And the fact that he was less than a hundred feet away from him right now.

Harry sighed, trying to put an end to the thoughts formulating in his mind, but they wouldn't stop.

And they didn't stop the entire time he was changing, or when he was sliding his legs underneath the covers, or when his cheek was pressed up against the cold pillow sheet.

Eventually he fell asleep, and for a while his mind was numb, but that didn't clear the way for dreams about the flashy dancer with the highest cheekbones Harry had ever seen.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of the terms i used in this chapter were things my grandparents told me were part of the slang in the 1950's, so if some of it doesn't make sense, just look it up :) x

The smell of something delicious was wafting through the air, Harry's sense of smell kicking in and his eyelids opening for the first time that morning. Harry yawned into his hand, sitting upright in the bed as he tried to differentiate dream and reality between last night's events. By the scent of the breakfast in the kitchen and the sound of a singing voice, Harry knew it that it was real, and he still couldn't believe Louis was living with him.

Harry swung his feet over the bed, letting his toes touch the cold floor as he lazily walked into his bathroom and did his morning routine, using the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and washing his face. He didn't want Louis to see how he looked when he just woke up, because, well, first morning impressions were everything.

Out in the kitchen, Louis had on an apron over a button up shirt and a pair of suspenders, flipping something that was probably pancakes in a pan. He was only humming now, a tune that Harry had heard him and the other boys perform at the Burlesque a couple times.

"Morning." Harry says, his voice sounding raspy like it usually did in the morning.

"Good morning," Louis sings out, giving the pancake one last flip and then reaching across the oven to lower the dial, 'I made a pot of coffee, but I don't know how you like it so it's still in the pot."

"Wow, thanks," Harry replies, Louis only humming something out in response. Harry grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet above the coffee machine and filled them both with the black coffee, "How do you take yours?"

Louis shrugs, "I'll just have some sugar cubes."

"I have sugar cubes?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Top shelf next to the fridge." Louis says, and Harry heads over to the cabinet, opening it to see a bag of sugar cubes sitting right in front of his eyes.

Now that he thought about it, Harry really hadn't used the kitchen that much. He was more of a fast food type of person.

"Don't use the kitchen much, do ya?" Louis asks, and it's like he had taken the thoughts straight from Harry's mind.

"Not really," Harry dunks the sugar cubes in Louis' mug, drowning them with a spoon, "Never learned how, never really had intentions to either."

Louis scoffs, "It's an essential for life, Harry. Say, how about I teach you later?"

"I'd love for you too," Harry shakes his head and continues, "You can dance, you can sing, you're gorgeous and you can cook, you're just a man of talents, aren't you?" Harry says, leaning into Louis' face to try and catch the gleam in his eyes.

Blushing, Louis grabs the plate of pancakes and turns away to avoid showing Harry the grin on his face, "Oh, I'm not that great..."

"Quit being modest, I bet you're amazing at everything you do." Harry said, fawning over Louis.

"You're trying to deem me as a good cook and you haven't even taken a bite of my pancakes yet. Something's telling me that you're just trying your best to woo me." Louis sets down the plate on the counter, pursing his lips together tightly to mask the flattery that was filling his body.

It wasn't working.

"You know you love it." Harry smiles, "You may be able to hold back your expression, but I can see it in your eyes."

"Shut up and eat your breakfast, you dunce." Louis laughs, swiping his mug of coffee up the counter and holding it up to his lips to hide his smile.

\--

The next couple of days were quite boring, as they usually were when Harry wasn't out on the town. He and Louis had stayed inside most of the time, except for the couple of runs to the grocery store that Louis took every other day to get ingredients for their meals.

Getting used to having someone else in the house was different for Harry since he had been living on his own for the last 3 years. He had left his parent's house when he was 18, immediately spending his college funds on a flat in the city of London. After doing things on his own for a while, it was weird having someone else around to keep him company.

So one night when they were relaxing on the couch, Harry's nose stuck in the newspaper and Louis' eyes glaring intently at the small television in front of him.

Louis was barely even focusing on the technicolor scene in front of him, his thoughts roaming elsewhere.

"Hey Harry?" Louis asked, waiting Harry's eyes poke over the newspaper to let him know he had his attention like they usually did. When he had his interest, he asked, "How about we...go somewhere tonight?" And hoped it didn't sound like he was asking him out. Because he wasn't.

Okay maybe he was.

Harry folded his newspaper and put it aside, crossing his arms over his chest, "I really don't know anywhere to go." He confessed.

"I could show you around," Louis answers, almost a bit too quickly, "I mean, I could take you to the places I like to go, or that I think that you'd like."

"Sounds fun, grab your coat, let's go." Harry insisted, nearly jumping off the couch and practically tripping over his own feet to the closet.

Louis hadn't even stood up yet when he heard "Catch!" and had his white pea coat flying at him. He caught it with the base of his arm, shaking his head and letting a chuckle escape from his lips as he pulled the sleeves over the arms of his button up.

"Someone's a little excited." Louis stated, making his way over to the front door and slipping his clunky shoes on.

Harry was all ready to go, his hand wrapped around the door knob and a smile on his face.

"Lou, you're taking forever." He whined out, flicking his wrist on the handle and swinging the door open.

"Maybe you just do things too quick." Louis replied lamely, ducking under Harry's arm as he held the door for him.

"Or maybe you're just too slow, you need to live it up, Lou." Harry responded, pumping his arms in the lamest style that Louis had ever seen.

Louis rolled his eyes, pressing the down button on the elevator, "Do that again and this will be the last time we'll go out together."

Harry laughed in response, which Louis found weird, because people were usually intimated by his sassy side.

Maybe he had finally found his match.

They took the elevator down to the lobby, and Louis' ears were ringing. Harry had been talking nonstop for the short two minutes that they were alone in the shaft, asking about the nightlife and blubbering about how much fun they were going to have.

Louis regretted this almost immediately.

Down in the lobby, Louis turned to Harry and asked, "Where to?"

Harry tapped his chin, shrugging his coat clad shoulders, "How about we go get something to eat first? On me, of course."

"I know just the place." Louis nodded, waving Harry to the revolving doors and pushing through them.

The restaurant that Louis was taking Harry to wasn't that far from the living complex, and on the more casual end of the chains in the city. It had a large, flashing sign which read  _The Polka Dot_ and was situated between a bookstore and a record store. It was burger joint that Louis often visited with some of the other members of the burlesque club after shows, and Louis hoped that it wasn't _too_ casual for Harry's classy taste.

The two approached the building, Louis turning the corner and saying, "This way, H."

Harry followed, fumbling over his enormous shoes.

Louis laughed at his clumsiness as he pushed open the door, looking over his shoulder and making sure Harry got in before he let the door go.

 _The Polka Dot_ was just like every other family gathering place in New York, with colorful counters and tables with black and white checkered floors. The usual waitress with long, brown curls and a red mock apron on greeted them, two menus in her hand.

"Two?"

Louis nodded, the two of them following the waitress-Sophia-to their table.

Sliding into the booth, Louis made eye contact with Harry and oh God, for the first time since they've been together it was awkward. It was never awkward when they were sitting in their pajamas and scarfing down pancakes, or when Harry was reading his newspaper or his book or who knows what and Louis was constantly annoying him.

"I already know what you want, Lou, what can I get for your friend?" Sophia says, smiling at Louis before turning her attention to Harry.

"Um, Coca-Cola, if you have it," Harry responds, averting his eyes worridly at Louis, "I'm not from around here so I'm not sure if you would-"

"We do, sweetheart," Sophia interupts, writing something on her notepad, "Where are you from, anyway? You've got a nice accent."

"London," Harry replies, "It's a lot different from New York, I'll tell you that."

Sophia nods, flipping her notebook closed, "I can imagine. You can tell me more about it when I bring your drinks by and you're ready to order. I'm Sophia, by the way." She says, extending her tanned arm towards Harry.

"Harry," He says back with a smile, and with that, she tells them she'll back soon and she leaves.

A couple game of pegs and a few exagerrated losings on Louis' part later, Sophia is back with there drinks and she's asking Harry a million questions of London.

Louis doesn't hear anything but annoyance from his female friend's voice, wishing she'd just leave so he could spend the evening with _only_ Harry.

"So have you like, met the Queen?" Sophia asks dumbly, and Louis wants to jab a pen through her forehead.

"Uh, no," Harry responds, his eyebrows raising, "It's not as easy as you think, you see..."

Louis zones out because oh my _god_ he just wants Harry to pay attention to him and he doesn't even know why he wants to capture every second of Harry's observations, but he just _does_.

About ten death scenarios later, Sophia is excusing herself from their table and is waiting on someone else.

"I thought she'd never leave," Louis huffs out, summoning a laugh from Harry, "She's not always that talkative, I promise. She's probably into you." Louis says, sarcasm oozing from his tone.

Harry laughs, probably a lot harder than he should have, and Louis swears that he's going to cough up a lung if he doesn't stop.

"Why on earth was that so funny?" Louis asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Because I'm into guys."

Louis doesn't even know how to respond, so he just stares blankly at the boy in front of him.

"Why are you looking at me like I have two heads? Is that weird to you?" Harry asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"No! No, that's uh, fine, because I like boys too." Louis stammers out, forcing a shrill laugh to follow afterwords.

"Oh, well, great." Harry smiles, picking up his menu, "So, what's good here?"

That was that. It was out in the open, and Louis wasn't sure if he was feeling more uncomfortable or anxious or nervous because he had never told anyone that before.

Especially not another guy.

And especially, _especially_ not another guy who also likes guys.

When Sophia came back, Harry placed his order, taking at least three minutes to settle on a regular burger and a set of fries, plus a vanilla milkshake that he promised to share with Louis.

Louis couldn't keep his eyes off Sophia the entire time she was at the table, because _she_ couldn't keep her eyes off _Harry_.

He had to do something.

Acting quickly, Louis smacked his drink off the table, the sticky soda spilling all over the bottom of Sophia's uniform and her legs.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Louis faked, bringing a hand to his chest.

Sophia scoffed, pulling a washrag out of her apron and wiping off her legs.

"Oh no, Lou, I know you didn't mean it. I guess that's my universal clue to leave you guys alone. See ya later, boys, bye Harry." She said, waggling her fingers at the curly headed boy.

Harry gave her a small wave back, then erupting into laughter when she was out of ear shot.

"That was totally on purpose!" Harry chuckled out, "You're so jealous!"

Louis ran his tongue over his teeth, "Am not. I just had a random muscle spasm." He said, shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his drink.

Harry stared at him blankly, laughing again and shaking his head, "Jealous."

"Narcissist." Louis fired back.

"Thanks," Harry responded with a fake smile, "Why are you getting so bent out of shape anyway? Someone got a crush?"

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, "Please, how low do you think my standards are?"

"Ouch, don't have to shoot me down so hard."

"Ain't that a bite?" Louis asks, his usual satisfied smirk returning to his lips.

"You're just cruisin' for a bruisin' tonight, aren't you?"

"Possibly."

That wasn't the end of their flirtatious banter. Harry usually teased Louis about having a crush on him, Louis shooting back with a thoughtful repartee. That night, there was never a quite moment at table 17.

When they were finished with their meals, Harry payed for a the meal, despite Louis' constant pleads to at least pay half or to be the one to leave the tip. Like a perfect gentleman, Harry insisted that he should pay, held the door for Louis on the way out, and gave him his jacket when they reached the cool air outside.

"So, you fancy going anywhere else?" Louis asked, tugging Harry's puffy jacket over his pea coat.

"Where else is there to go?" Harry said.

"Well, we could go see a flick at the theater, or we could go to the bar for some drinks, or we could go dancing.Oh! We should go dancing!"

Harry's eyes widened, "Dancing is more your thing, Lou. I got two left feet."

"I bet you haven't even tried." Louis rolled his eyes.

"Oh, trust me, I have, and it's embarrassing. It's not happening."

"Please." Louis begged, dragging out his vowels and sticking out his bottom lip.

"Some other time, promise. I just feel like going home right now." Harry said, nodding toward the direction of the house.

"Okay."

\--

A couple nights later when they were in their usual positions, Harry with his eyes glued to the latest newspaper and Louis with his feet draped over the chair, Harry set down his newspaper and took off his glasses, looking to Louis.

"Remember that thing you talked about doing a few nights back?" Harry asked.

Louis sat up in his seat, putting his focus on Harry, "What? About us going dancing?"

"Yes."

"So you want to?" Louis asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Only if you'll teach me to dance." Harry said, and Louis about flipped the chair over.

"Well of course!" Louis squealed, jumping off the chair and making his way to Harry, "I'll have to find something for you to wear in your closet, it's a pretty classy place. Oh! I'm just so excited! I haven't had a proper dance partner in forever!"

Louis dashed out of the living room and into Harry's bedroom, leaving him sitting on the couch with his newspaper and a bewildered look on his face.

When Louis came back, he had a coat hanger that had a work suit of Harry's draped over it.

"Forget I said anything."

"C'mon, Harry! I'm sure you'll look great."

"Suits aren't my thing." Harry replied, raising his eyebrow and cocking his head to the left.

"You said dancing wasn't either, but look where we are."

Louis had a point there.

"Fine, I'll wear the damn suit, but you have to look just as good," Harry warns, "I'm not dressing up this well to go to some dance place where people are dressed like greasers."

Louis scoffs, "Do you really think I'd take you to a place with greasers? Well, you do have the hair for it..."

"Watch it, hub cap."

"Okay okay, I'm sorry. Just get dressed, and I'll find something to wear, but I can't guarantee you'll look better." Louis winks, unzipping his bag on the floor.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was jamming his hat over his head of curls. He gave himself one last once over in the mirror, grimacing at how dressed up he looked. Harry never enjoyed dressing up, or dancing for that matter.

But it was _Louis_ who was going with him, so he was up for anything.

Even if he would be making an absolute fool of himself, it would be with Louis and that's all that mattered.

Upon exiting the room, Harry about hit Louis with his bedroom door.

"I was just about to come get you, but it seems the door got me instead." Louis laughed, rubbing his nose with his hand.

"Sorry," Harry said, then becoming speechless as he admired Louis' outfit.

He was stunned at the amount of beauty that one boy could capture, from his Clark-Kent-cinnamon-roll hairstyle to the way his black suit complimented his tan skin, Harry was speechless.

"Wow, you look...wonderful."

"I could say the same for you, handsome," Louis flirted, "Now enough with the apple butter, we need to get going."

"You sure you still want to go with the guy who dances like an electrocuted grasshopper?"

"Hell, of course I do. Why else would I ask you a hundred times?" Louis asks.

Harry shrugs in response, signaling Louis to follow him out the door.

Louis and Harry walked to the dance club, Louis having to show Harry his way around the town. He pointed out several places like the movie theater and the supermarket and the best restaurants and Harry was so glad that he had him around.

The dance club was crowded, as expected, with a live jazz band and several men and women swing-dancing on the floor. The rest of the people were more posh, sitting at tables with their white gloves wrapped around fancy wine glasses. Harry thought they looked pretentious, and he didn't want to be one of those people.

"You like the atmosphere so far?" Louis asked over the loud music.

"Yes, but all of these people are going to be so much better than me." Harry panicked.

"Nonsense, look at that guy over there." Louis said, discreetly pointing his finger at someone who's dancing resembled a toddler who just had an accident in its diaper.

"But what if people do what you just did? What if they point and laugh at me?"

"Who cares? You're having fun. And trust me, sweetheart, with the way you look, your dancing is the last thing people are going to focus on," Louis assured, smacking Harry lightly on the bum and stepping forward to the bouncer, whom gave him a smile and a wave as he passed through, dragging Harry behind him.

They seated themselves at a table in the back corner, Louis immediately sliding the drinks menu to Harry.

"Pick out something you like and I'll get it for you. My treat for you taking me in and choosing my as your muse."

"Oh you don't have to, Lou."

"Harry." Louis says, piquing his eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine," Harry sighs, pointing to a drink and shoving the menu back by Louis, "Get me this if it's not too much trouble."

"Anything for you, dolly." Louis winked, dismissing himself from the table.

Harry may or may not have watched him walk away and he just had to say that Louis' bum looks absolutely delicious in his slacks.

When he returned, Louis was giggly and his drink was halfway gone already, which wasn't really surprising.

"Hope that's how you like it, look, it's even got a little umbrella."

Three drinks and a lot of laughter later, Louis was pulling Harry onto the dance floor.

"C'mon! You'll be fine!" Louis assured.

"I'm trusting you." Harry joked.

Harry let Louis guide him with his hands, putting Harry's hands in the proper positions and showing him the foot movements. Harry followed along quite nicely, trying hard not to step on Louis' feet but that was probably a difficult thing to do since they were both intoxicated and were stumbling everywhere.

There were a few times where one of them got a little closer than they should have, hands wandering and heads leaning on shoulders. Harry kept trying to convince his inebriate mind that it was nothing more than two friends spending the night out, but something inside of him was telling him that this was a lot more.

Louis felt it too. Under the haziness of the alcohol in his system, butterflies were having a rave party in his tummy.

"You're not as bad as you think." Louis said over the jazzy music, his voice slower and more drawn out than his usual chipper tone.

"That's probably because I have the best dance instructor in the world." Harry replied, leaning in and breathing into Louis.

Louis shivered at Harry's warm breath on his neck, the smell of the martini lingering in the air.

Clearing his throat, Louis stepped back and changed the subject, "How about I teach you something new?"

"How about I take you home, instead?"

Louis didn't know how to respond at first, so he just blinked back at the curly-haired boy.

"I'm sleeping on your couch, technically we're in the same home."

"That's not what I meant."

"Um, okay. Yeah, let's walk home."

Louis led Harry out of the dance club, holding him upright by his elbow. Harry's footing was equivalent to that of a baby deer on ice, and Louis knew that Harry couldn't hold his liquor as well as he could himself.

"This is what I wanted when I moved here," Harry said, his green eyes twinkling in the light of the stars, "I saw all of these happy people doing happy things and just being happy. Are you happy right now, Louis? You seem happy. I'm happy."

"You talk to much," Louis joked, ruffling Harry's hair, "Yes, of course I'm happy. I had fun tonight."

"Good because I like you, you're so much fun. I don't even like dancing but you made this fun for me. You're fun."

Louis was pretty sure that Harry was talking more right now then he ever had in the last week that they'd known each other.

They got back home about a half an hour later, Harry literally passed out in Louis' arms and he was quite hefty. Louis was a lot smaller than Harry and size and well, Harry was tall and gangling. Louis was petite and curvy. You do the math.

Louis fished the keys out of Harry's coat pocket, unlocking the door and pushing them both inside.

"We've got to get you to bed, you're a mess." Louis said, kissing his curls.

Harry giggled in response. Yes, he _giggled_.

Deciding that it probably wasn't his place, Louis left Harry in his suit and laid him on his bed. He gazed at him for a second, laying there with his mouth open and his eyes fluttering before turning off the light and going to close the door behind him, but then he stopped.

"Stay with me, Lou." Harry said, almost too quiet that Louis hadn't heard it.

Louis hesitated at first, but then made the rash decision of staying. He took off his sport coat and pondered about taking his pants off or not (which he did) and then crawled into the opposite side of the bed with Harry, who was probably asleep by now.

Smiling, Louis fell asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed, I'd really appreciate it! :)


	3. three

Harry and Louis didn't talk about that night for a while, putting it off to the opposite side of their spectrum of playful banter and Harry's repetitive need for taking notes on small things Louis said or did in their downtime. Louis found it cute that Harry was so enthralled with him that he noticed things about him that he hadn't even noticed himself.

The two were in their usual places on the couch again almost three weeks later, Louis spilling the details of how he got a job at the burlesque.

"My mother had been a dancer there, one of the best," Louis started, looking off to the left in sadness, "Then she died, and I was heartbroken. I tried to find comfort through her, so I did what she loved best. I asked my father to sign me up for dance classes, but after she passed, we just didn't have money for that kind of thing. I got a job at the _Polka Dot_ and that's how I knew Sophia. She knew that I was trying to fulfill my dream and my mother's too, and bless her soul, because Sophia would give me her tips at the end of the day. When I was 14, I paid my way into dance classes and apparently I was a natural. 2 years later I landed myself a spot as a dancer in the burlesque club, and now I'm here rambling about my rise to fame." Louis finished, forcing out a laugh.

Harry didn't respond at first, just staring at him blankly.

"It's really..."

"Inspirational?" Harry said quickly, interrupting Louis.

"I was going to say cliche, but that works too." Louis responds, grinning.

"Seriously, Louis, that's amazing. That's going to tug at the heartstrings of my readers like nothing ever written before. You're going to be the new _All About Eve_!" Harry exclaimed, clapping his hands together and jumping off the couch.

Louis sat in his chair, watching Harry pace back and forth while excitedly mumbling things under his breath.

"Your own movie...next big star..." Were some of the things Louis heard from Harry's inaudible ramblings.

"Harry? Do you really think all of that could happen to...me?" Louis asked, pointing to himself and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well of course. You have so many talents, Lou. You're going to go far, and after I finish writing about you, you'll be the next big thing."

This statement sent chills down Louis' spine, because this was all he wanted and more.

"You would really do that for me?"

"You're worth it." Harry said, and he probably didn't realize how much those three words meant to Louis.

"I don't even know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Harry said, "Well, do say something. I need more to write for my first article."

"What else could you need? That's basically my entire life story right there, which is pretty sad." Louis replied, slightly frowning.

"Expand on something, like your struggles in dance."

Louis shook his head, "There weren't any."

"You mentioned money, right?"

Shrugging, Louis said, "Just that I had to pay my way into dance. Not really a big deal, a lot of kids have to do that. Everyone has to work somewhere they really don't want to get extra cash flow."

"How about the fact that you're not in the spotlight?" Harry stated, which got a reaction out of Louis.

"You mean like the fact that I've been busting my ass for almost four years now to dance and I'm still stowed into the back?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Harry smiled, "Maybe if I wrote up an article exposing the way you and several others at the club are treated differently because you're not the idea of a perfect star in today's society, it could set the bar straight and could possibly start a domino effect of giving you more stage time! This is genius!" Harry exclaimed, running over to Louis and hugging him so tightly that he lost his balance, "This is...amazing! I couldn't have thought of this without you!"

"You wouldn't even be writing the article without me." Louis mumbled humbly, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him tighter.

"Right, thank you Louis. This all means so much to me." Harry breathed out with a smile and pulled away from Louis' grasp.

With nothing else to say on the subject, Louis just gave Harry a small smile.

Yawning into his hand, Harry turned away from Louis and started off toward his bedroom.

"I think I'm going to retire to my chamber for the night," Harry said, turning back, "G'night, Lou."

"Night." Louis replied tiredly, moving over to the couch that Harry was just resting on. He spread the blanket that was laying over the top of the couch on top of his body, letting his head hit the pillow and take him off to a dreamland of sleep.

\--

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Louis felt another body on top of him, poking at his sides and cheeks.

No.

"Louis! Wake up! We've got a big day!"

"Go away." Louis groaned, attempting to roll over on the couch, but failed since Harry was still sitting on him.

Once the weight was lifted off Louis' petite body, the curtains flew open and Harry was singing an awful rendition of 'Let the Sunshine In'.

"I'll get up if you stop whatever the hell you're doing," Louis whines, pushing the covers off his freezing body and lifting himself away from the couch, "What do we have to do today, anyway? It's a Thursday."

Harry turned on his heel back toward Louis, placing a finger on his chin, "You're correct, it is a Thursday. One of many. So many possibilities that could be fulfilled on this wonderful Thursday morning."

"What are you going on about?" Louis asked, crossing his arms and piquing his eyebrow.

"I was thinking a lot about things last night and I've decided today is going to be Harry and Louis' day of fun!" Harry said, clapping his hands together and bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Louis never realized until just now how much of a child Harry was.

"I'm going back to bed." Louis replies, starting to flop down on the couch again.

"Louis! Wait!" Harry yells, running over to him, "Trust me, this is going to be fun! Take a shower and get dressed pretty comfortably, and we could spend the day wherever you like because, hell, I still don't know where anything is. We could go to the beach! Or the boardwalk! Or even the movies or...I don't know, Louis, I want to have more fun while working on the article. Plus we could get some pretty awesome candid shots while we're out too."

Louis sighs, not wanting to disappoint Harry and his cuteness anymore. "Fine, alright, _fine_. Give me at least an hour to get ready, I'm still half asleep and I need some time to wake up."

"Okay." Harry smiles, practically jogging back to his own bedroom and Louis doesn't remember how he could ever possibly say no to him.

An hour and ten minutes later (not that Harry was counting or anything, no way), Louis emerges from their shared bathroom dressed as he normally is, khaki pants and a white button down. Harry's attire is more dressy to fit his style of a typical journalist, black slacks and a button down to match Louis', topped off with his signature hat, they were both ready to go.

Their first stop was to a breakfast diner smack dab in the middle of the downtown area. As usual, Harry offered to pay like the gentleman he was and Louis properly declined, pulling his scarcely filled wallet out of his back pocket as Harry smacked his hand away and payed for the meal himself. Respectively, Louis always insisted on leaving the tip.

"Louis Tomlinson," Harry started, writing in his journal as he spoke, "The man of generosity, insisting on paying even though he never has nor ever will, and yet, this heart of gold still leaves a tip. If he isn't the definition of orthodox then I don't know what is."

Louis rolled his eyes so hard that Harry swore they were never going to return to their normal position, but eventually he laughed and playfully punched Harry on the bicep, "Please, your flattery is uncanny."

"But you enjoy it." Harry sing-songed, leaning his head of curls into Louis' shoulder and batting his eyelashes.

Laughing is response, Louis nudges Harry's head off of him and he lolls his head in a goofy manner. To refrain from laughing anymore, Louis bites his lip and chokes out, "You're an idiot."

"But you love me." Harry added on again, and this time Louis was breathless. His face grew emotionless and he couldn't respond to what was probably just another bit of Harry's usual banter, but this time, he wasn't so sure by the gleam in Harry's eyes and the rose blush that was forming amongst his cheeks.

It felt like a millennium has passed before Louis was able to speak again, and by then Harry's face had fallen into sheer embarrassment.

"So, um, where would you like to go now, Captain Styles? You call the shots since this whole ordeal was your idea, anyway." Louis responds, his voice shaky.

Harry taps his chin as he always does when he's thinking, formulating the answer of the boardwalk a couple minutes later. Louis groans in his head because he was not dressed properly for a stroll along the boardwalk, but it would have to do. He was with Harry and that's all that mattered, right?

The boardwalk wasn't that far away, and to Louis' surprise, it was far less crowded than it normally was. Probably because it was midday and a Thursday, but it was still odd to see it not flooded with people.

Louis wasn't the only one who was unimpressed either. Harry imagined his first time being on the boardwalk would be magical and lively, full of bustling people with nowhere to go, but it wasn't living up to his expectations so far.

"You don't look so impressed, what's up?" Louis asked, getting a look at Harry's face.

Harry shrugged, taking off his hat to run his hands through his curls, "I don't know, I just expected it to be, different."

"More people? More magic?"

"Exactly, yeah."

"It's not even noon yet and most people have actual jobs to attend to."

"I suppose you're right," Harry says, taming his ungodly hair once again with his hat, "How about we come back later? You know, after we do everything else I have planned."

"Yes, of course," Louis laughs, "Any ideas for a new setting?"

"We could go shopping."

"I like where you're going with this."

"You need new clothes."

"What?" Louis says, not sure if Harry was joking or he was just being plain rude.

Harry sighed, "You've been wearing the same three outfits since you started staying with me and I just can't handle you subjecting yourself to nothing anymore. I'm buying you new clothes."

"No."

"Why? Why don't you ever want me to do anything for you?"

"I don't know," Louis scoffs out, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away, "I don't want you to think I'm using you for money or anything like that."

"Louis you're not. You're poor, and I just happen to have all the money in the world," Harry was lying, "C'mon, please?"

"Fine." Louis agreed, uncrossing his arms, and following Harry off of the boardwalk.

Eventually they had to stop and let Louis lead the way because Harry had the worst sense of direction and placement that Louis had ever experienced.

\--

"You're the most stubborn person, you know that?" Harry said, poking his head between the racks that Louis was looking through. They had been to several stores over the span of the day, this being their last stop, and Louis was _tired_. And when Louis was tired, Louis was in a bad mood.

Louis jumped back, his hand flying to his heart and muttering a curse under his breath, "Well at least I don't thrive off of scaring the whits out of people."

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing himself fully out of the rack of clothes, managing to knock clothes off their hangers as he did so.

"Oh, Lou, I do it out of love." Harry says, overstepping the invisible boundary that Louis wasn't even aware that he had made for the two of them.

Ignoring it this time, Louis responds, "Right. So do you think this is enough? Or have you already broken the bank?"

"This shall do," Harry said, taking the weight of the clothes from Louis' arm, "Let's go find a cash register."

Harry payed as usual and Louis didn't even bother arguing this time because it was useless, and Louis wondered to himself when exactly Harry had become his sugar daddy.

When they walked out of the store, Louis has just realized how dark it had gotten. If he squinted just the right amount, he could see the golden tiki lanterns on the boardwalk all the way from the other side of the city, giving it a magical glow that was somehow yearning to him.

He turned to Harry swiftly and asked, "Would you like the go back to the boardwalk? I know we'll have to do an awful lot of walking but it will be-"

"How about we get a cab?"

Louis was definitely Harry's sugar baby.

"Sounds great, at least we'll save ourselves some energy for the boardwalk, eh?" Louis asked as Harry waved down a cab.

Whilst waving, Harry turned back and gave Louis the most genuine smile he'd ever seen in his life. It was one of those smiles you only see once or twice in a lifetime, full of the hopes and dreams of a child but with the wisdom and knowing of an adult. A smile where the other person's eyes twinkle in the streetlight and the corner of their mouths are unbelievably high, and it's hard to believe that they're even breathing in that moment. It was something that was truly paranormal to Louis prior to that split second in time.

The beeps of the taxi pulled him from this twilight zone of thoughts, Louis being guided by Harry into the taxi cab. Louis slid across the leather seat, sitting properly as he waited for Harry to situate himself with the bombard of shopping bags he was holding.

"Where to?" The driver asked, his elbow propped up on top of the seat.

Harry gave him the address to his apartment, handing over a ten dollar bill and winking in Louis' direction, saying, "You can keep the change."

Louis was melting like a snow cone in the summer time.

Ten minutes of oh so impatient babbling later, Harry and Louis arrived back at the apartment complex. Harry asked the driver to wait for him to come back so he could rid of the shopping bags, and Louis was left alone in silence with the taxi driver.

In other words, he couldn't wait for Harry to come back.

Eventually he did, his breath quickening as he flopped back into the backseat of the taxi and said, "Fancy taking us to the boardwalk?"

Harry had so much charm no matter what he said and that was killing Louis.

\--

The brisk air that rolled over the wooden shafts of the boardwalk were fitting with the mood of the evening, peaceful but so intense at the same time. Seagulls made whatever sound that seagulls make in the distance, gathering themselves around the lighthouse that beamed its light across the faces of dozens.

Louis and Harry were strolling around aimlessly, making several trips back and forth across the length of the boardwalk, stopping periodically to gaze at the rocking ocean beyond.

A couple times they had passed the ferris wheel that was circulating in the moonlight of the boardwalk, and Harry kept insisting that they go.

"If you ask me one more time I'll break your arms." Louis replied for the fifteenth time, not knowing why he was disagreeing with Harry because a ride on the ferris wheel sounded quite nice. Maybe he just wanted to hear him beg, or to see him pout his cute little pink lips.

"Oh, please, Louis! It would be so much fun!" Harry begged, dragging out his words like a toddler who couldn't get his way.

Well.

"You are such a child Harry, and this is coming from someone younger than you," Louis said sarcastically, not able to hold back his grin, "Fine, we'll go on the ferris wheel, but only if you kiss me at the top."

"Deal."

Louis also learned that Harry kept his promises.

Ironically enough, the ferris wheel broke down at the top.

"Hey Louis, remember what you said down there? On the boardwalk?" Harry asked, his eyes filled with innocence.

"How could I forget?"

"Did you mean it?"

"No I was kidding," Louis said only to rise a reaction out of Harry (which he did) and then quickly took back his statement, "Yes, Harry, I meant it. Now enough with this mindless chit chat and just kiss me already."

He did.

The kiss was sweet and slow, just like Louis imagined it would be. Harry made the first move, of course, placing his finger under Louis' chin to pull him closer. The anticipation of the kiss was building up in Louis' body, making him just want to grab Harry and get on with it, but he was glad he didn't.

Harry's lips were plump and soft like pillows and tasted like the vanilla ice cream he had consumed when they first arrived at the boardwalk, guiding Louis' lips with his own.

After the kiss had ended, Harry asked, "Was that okay?"

"It was nice, you're a nice person to kiss." Louis replied awkwardly, his mind still hazy after one of the most passionate moments of his 18 year old life.

"Shall I put that in my article? Another amazing talent by Louis Tomlinson, a total cutie and a fantastic kisser."

Louis swore he was blushing.

"No, I think those details should stay between us." Louis smirked, leaning into Harry and kissing him on the cheek.

Sadly, the ride got fixed and it was time for them to get off, but Louis didn't want to leave. He'd just reached a monumental point in his life, and he felt like he was letting it go. Or maybe he was just letting it begin.

They spent the rest of the evening out on the dock of the boardwalk, sharing a plate of fries and occasionally flicking them at each other when one of them made a smart ass comment about the other. Harry was rambling as usual about something that was probably interesting but Louis couldn't even focus because he was so high on this moment, high on life, even.

Louis hadn't felt like this in a very long time. His childhood was robbed of him when he was only 14 when he decided to dedicate his life to dance and give up on his education and his chances to be something. Hearing Harry talk about so many important and intelligent things made Louis yearn for that type of knowledge, or maybe he was yearning for Harry, or maybe Louis just wanted everything.

This was when Louis settled on wanting the world.

"I want the world." Louis stated, and he was pretty sure he had cut Harry off mid sentence.

Harry didn't mind though, he finished the fry he was eating and then asked, "Elaborate, please."

"All this time I've been wondering what exactly I want in life and...I want the world. I want everything I can have and possibly more. I want to be famous and in the spotlight but I also want to have that amount of knowledge that you have because everything you were just saying was incredible and I could never relate to you on that intellectual level."

"You'll get the world, Louis. You've got the potential and drive to take over this world," Harry said, plucking another fry from the basket, "But most importantly, well not really, but most importantly to me, am I something that you want?"

Louis threw a fry at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed!


	4. four

Harry swore that waking up to a ringing telephone was probably the equivalent to getting bit by a poisonous snake. Twice.

Groaning, Harry sat up in his bed and grabbed the phone without even thinking, mumbling out a husky, "Hello?"

"Harry! How are things going? I haven't really heard from you for a while and I was just making sure that things were alright in good old New York." The voice on the other end said, and it took Harry about 12 seconds to realize that it was his boss, Liam.

"Oh yeah, things are great," Harry started, pulling the base of the phone closer to him, "I've got my subject along with bits and pieces of the article, it's coming along swimmingly if I must say so myself."

"Great! I hope you're enjoying this because it could be your big break, kiddo. You've got it in you, you just got to be passionate about it, am I right?"

"Yes, you are. I think I've found my muse." Harry said, and he really wasn't even sure what he was saying.

"I'd love to hear what it is, hopefully it's something that can catch the attention of our public!" Liam said excitedly, and Harry wondered why the hell he was so awake at 6 am.

Then he remembered that time zones existed.

"Um, sure. I can't really title it yet, but there's this guy and he's a dancer at the local burlesque, one of the best I tell you, but he's not getting enough recognition as he should and I feel like the article I'm writing about him could possibly change both of our careers, you know? It sounds weird but he's my muse." Harry explained, hushing his voice so he wouldn't wake Louis out in the living room.

Liam didn't answer for a couple minutes, but when he did, his voice was booming through the phone, "Harry you've always got the greatest ideas! I never would of thought of covering a person, let alone a dancer. I'm interested to see what you're coming up with. Give me a call within the next few days and keep me updated, yeah?"

Harry agreed and then said his goodbyes, hanging up the phone and attempting to go back to sleep.

But he just couldn't, his slumber the night before was filled with dreams of him and Louis, most of them involving taking over the world, but there were sweet dreams also. Harry found himself often reliving their first kiss, the taste of Louis' lips still lingering on his and the jittery feeling of a new romance budding in the pits of his stomach.

Unfortunately, Harry found himself _so_ smitten with Louis even though they had only kissed once, but Harry was sure that it had to mean _something_ , because friends didn't kiss on a regular basis, did they?  Either way, Harry had the mother of all crushes on Louis currently, and sadly, it was looking pretty hopeless at the moment, but Harry hoped that the kiss really did mean something more than he was expecting. 

For now, Harry decided that he was going to try and put the crush off for now and let himself live.

With this thought, Louis knocked on Harry's door and let himself in. Harry almost gasped because he thought Louis looked so adorable in the morning in his stupid pajamas with his stupid messy hair and his stupid sleepy eyes and it was just _stupid_.

"Who called? Is something wrong?" Louis asked with concern, and Harry's heart was currently killing itself because he was so _cute_.

"Just my boss, he wanted to know how the article was going, and you know, he wanted to know what my muse was," Harry replied, biting his lip and sitting up in his bed.

To his surprise, Louis walked over, allowing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. Harry tensed up, his eyes going wide and his ears paneling out all sound beside the beat of his own heart. 

"What did you tell him? About me, I mean," Louis asked curiously, his smile coy and his eyes twinkling.

"Well," Harry said, recalling the conversation, "I told him that _you_ were my stimulus, and that you were this amazing dancer at the local burlesque who deserved so much more than he gets. He said that it was a great idea, and he's interested in what I can write about you." 

Louis inclines, a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes unbelievably drowsy, "Sounds about right, anything else?"

"Not really, he just wanted the basics."

"Okay, just wondering," Louis says, laying down on his back across the edge of Harry's bed, turning his head to Harry and huffing out, "It's Friday, innit?"

Harry nods and Louis lets out a lengthy groan.

"I really don't feel up for work tonight," Louis complains, lolling his head off of the end boundary of the bed, sighing out loudly, "I doubt Paul or any of the others would even notice my lack of presence."

"Nonsense. It'll be alright though," Harry assures, "I'll be there, plus this may be your last time dancing in the background, you better enjoy it, Lou."

Louis' lips curl back into a smile at this, "Let's hope so, I'm sick of being the clubs unrecognized talent."

"I'm sick of it too," Harry replies, wistful that he could somehow change Louis' sad fate.

\--

The familiar tinkling of margarita glasses and the smooth jazz music of the burlesque club was whirling through the air, Harry feeling somewhat at ease in the darkly lit room. Harry was seated on the bar stool in front of Zayn, as usual, swirling the ice in his beverage around in his glass.

"Let me be the one to ask the typical question, how's the article coming along?" Zayn asked, wiping down a glass and piquing an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry looked up from his glass, shrugging, "I've barely even started writing the article, well, I have all the details, big and small, ready to go in my notebook," Harry side eyes the leather bound book next to him on the counter of the bar, "But I haven't put it all together yet. You know, it's like a puzzle, first you have to get all the large chunks out of the way first, and then everything else just falls into place."

"So you have everything done, except for the article itself?" Zayn asks in confusion, "How long do you think that will take?"

Harry shrugs, "A couple days maybe, it's like writing an essay. You outline everything first, and then all you have to do is fluff it up with fancy words and lovely descriptions. It all works in the end." 

"I'm actually really interested to read it, you think you could bring by a copy of the finished masterpiece once your through?" Zayn asked, leaning his elbows onto the counter.

"Of course, you were the one who suggested Louis to me in the first place. Without you, I'd probably be back in London without a muse _or_ a job," Harry said, his stomach churning even at the mere mention of the fact that within a short matter of time, he would have to be back in London to publish the article.

"Sounds good! I'll give you my address and you could swing it by, yeah?" Zayn said, smiling as he pulled Harry's notebook toward himself, taking a pen from his shirt pocket and jotting down his address, "Cool, I'll see you then. I should probably leave you alone now, the show is about to start." Zayn finished, giving Harry a small wave before attending to the person who was sat next to him.

Harry turned back around and sighed, letting his smile wither away as he stared at the red curtain that was hiding the stage from the rest of the world. Harry should be used to this by now, being on the outside looking in throughout the duration of the show, but the charms of the magically beautiful exhibit still hadn't sunk in. The show still was as new as it was the first time Harry had stumbled into the burlesque club, the shine never fading, even though they were the same dance routines and the same songs that Harry now found himself absentmindedly mouthing along to. If Harry weren't clumsier than a deer on ice, then he himself could have easily fit into the burlesque club, but thus, he was a writer, which required minimal physical activity, and he was thankful for that.

Eventually the maroon curtain rose the same way it always did, revealing Niall and his entourage of dancers. Harry's eyes immediately focus to Louis, who was all dolled up in pretty red lipstick and some type of glittery powder that was dusting over his shoulders and cheekbones. Harry sensed his entire body becoming at ease as he stared at the boy, and he could have sworn that his eyes were twinkling in the bright lights from the stage. In this exact moment, Harry realized that he was in deep.

The show began, music sounding from the speakers and Niall lip syncing the track, his moves lazier than usual and his eyes lulling with exhaustion. This was clearly visible to the audience, who were audibly vocalizing their opinions on why he wasn't living up to his normal standards of being fantastic (which Harry never thought he was that fantastic to begin with, but he wasn't going to say that). 

After Niall had finished a total of two songs, the stage lights dimmed and the room was full of the club's regular neon luminescence. Confused, men and women looked back and forth, shrugging their shoulders and chattering about what could have happened to the lights. The song track had stopped also, and the curtain was slowly covering the stage again. 

"What the hell is going on?" Harry asked, turning to Zayn, whom of which was behind him. 

"Beats me, seems like Horan's finally cracked. This isn't going to end well, mark my words, oh goodness me," Zayn worried, holding a wet towel to his forehead.

Harry believed he had some obligation to backstage to figure out what exactly was happening, but decided he shouldn't, for the sake of his being in the club, and whatever was happening backstage.

\--

Every dancer was standing in a semi circle around Paul, except for front man Niall Horan of course, who claimed he was too overrun by the dramatics of the club. Niall was draped across a couch in the corner of the room, his forearm over his eyes in a dramatic way. Louis thought that Niall was a bigger diva than _he_ was, and that's saying something.

Paul was absolutely distressed, a clip board in hand as he stared at his dancers, faking disappointment in all of them, but deep in his heart, he knew who was really at fault here.

"Niall, what kind of establishment do you think I run here? One where you can start to piss off on your job just because you're tired? Tired of what? You work one day a week like the rest of the boys here, and they all seem to be in pretty good shape. I feel like there's a bigger reason why you've been slacking off so much lately, and I'm not sure what it is but you better inform me of it if it's urgent. If you fail to do exactly what I say, you're out. For good."

Niall's eyes popped open at this, his body bolting upward and his jaw dropping.

" _Excuse_ me? I'm the only reason this place gets any spark, and without me, you would be nothing! All of you! In both your personal and work lives! Remember that time that..." Niall bickered on, but Louis couldn't even care to pay attention anymore.

"Enough, Horan. You've given me a big enough migraine for tonight, it would be great if you would just stop as is," Paul scowled, squinting his eyes at Niall and waving his clipboard at him like the angry little man he was, "You're off for tonight, I'm sick of your attitude. Be at my office tomorrow at 6 am, no exceptions. That will determine your stance in my club," Paul finished, and Louis could actually hear Niall's heart shattering in his chest. "Now for the rest of you, the show must go on. I've already sent someone out to aware the public of our so called technical difficulties. Someone needs to take Niall's place, and I'm not going to be the one to choose. Talk among yourselves." Paul said, turning around and letting the boys talk.

The boys huddled together, the second leader of the group, Josh, speaking up first.

"How many of you know Niall's parts wholeheartedly? Like, enough that you could recite them in your grave?" Josh asked, scanning the boys in front of him.

Louis glanced around to see the other boys frowning and shrugging, so he took matters into his own hands, literally, and awkwardly gave a half arm raise, "I do." He spoke quietly. 

Everyone whipped their heads around, downsizing Louis with their glances and sneers.

"But, you're like, stuck in the back," Josh snorted, the rest of the boys following along with him. 

"Hey, knock it off," Stan, a friend of Louis', butt in, "I bet Louis could out dance any of you if it came down to it. Josh, don't even act like you're all that and a bag of chips just because you're near the front. You don't have half the drive or talent that Louis does." 

The entire room got quiet, Josh's face reddening in the badly lit room.

"Fine," Josh retorted cockily, "But if he screws up, its on him, not us. I say Paul should fire him if he blows our second chance, who's with me?"

All the boys agreed with Josh.

"Well if that's the case," Louis says, "Then if I do fantastic, Paul gives me the lead in the show."

"You've got yourself a deal," Josh replies.

Josh holds out his hand for Louis to shake, but when they almost touch hands, Louis fakes out, giving a fake smile to Josh and announcing loudly to everyone in the room, "Let's get this show back on the road!"

\--

Harry now has no nails left.

He had been nervously picking and biting at them or the last fifteen minutes, his middle finger bleeding and his pinky throbbing from the constant nipping at its skin.

"Will you stop that?" Zayn said, wacking Harry's hand away from his mouth, "I'm sure everything is fine. They said there was just some trouble backstage, and it would all be sorted out. Things are going to be _fine_." Zayn insisted, and Harry was so glad that he had made the unlikely friendship with the bartender.

"Thanks, Zayn," Harry smiled, "I'm just overreacting a bit I guess," Harry sighed, getting a look from Zayn, "Okay, I'm overreacting a lot. But this show meant something to Louis, this might be his last show doing back up or maybe his last show here even for that matter."

"It's just a mishap, it will still be special to him, I promise," Zayn nods, glancing toward the stage, "Right on cue, the curtain is rising again."

Harry turned to the stage so quickly that he was sure he had gotten whiplash. Adrenaline filled his gut as the stage lights went on for the second time, and where Harry expected to see Louis, he didn't, which sent his stomach sinking to the ground.

Averting his gaze rapidly, Harry searched for Louis' caramel fringe and baby blue eyes, only to find them front in center, a confident smirk on his face, and his eyes gleaming as bright as ever. Harry's heart welled up in his chest as he stared at Louis, finally being exactly where he belonged. 

\--

"Louis what the hell?" Harry asked, running up to him backstage after the show and enveloping him in his arms, "How, how did you-?"

"Shh," Louis hushed, "I'll tell you about it later at home."

"Then let's go home right now." Harry insists like the impatient child he is.

"I haven't even changed yet!" Louis laughs.

"You can change at home, please," Harry begs, batting his eyelashes.

Louis gives in.

\--

After Harry mauled down a cab and he paid him extra to speed back home, they're stumbling into the front of their penthouse, Harry buzzed, but not quite drunk, from the alcoholic beverages he downed and Louis buzzed on his life at the moment.

"Tell me how all this happened!" Harry exclaimed, manhandling Louis over to the couch so they could both sit down.

"Well, speed racer," Louis laughed, "Paul was sick of Niall's attitude, and he said he needed someone else to continue the show, so I spoke up. Josh, of course, didn't believe in me, so he made a shitty bet and ended up screwing himself over. Long story short, Paul's giving me the role of the lead in the show!" Louis claps, his face sporting a smile that could cure everything that wrong with the world.

Harry squealed, wrapping his arms around Louis once again, "I'm so proud of you, Louis. You don't even understand, I'm so proud I could kiss you right now!" Harry blurts out, but then he realizes what he's said, "I mean, I'd like to kiss you, you know, if that's okay with you."

"Please, Harry," Louis coos, piquing his eyebrow as he sees Harry eagerly nod, leaning in to him and meeting their lips.

They move their lips in unison, Harry being the dominant one in the kiss, making this clear by resting his hands on Louis' face and through his hair as he kisses him deep. Eventually, Harry is on top of Louis on the couch, but neither of them notice until Harry pulls off.

"Oh," Is all Louis can say as he stares up at Harry through his eyelashes. He admires how beautiful Harry looks above him, his eyes shining green and his cheeks blushing red.

"Sorry," Harry flushes, getting up from on top of Louis.

Louis really doesn't want him to apologize, because really, he could get used to the thought of being under Harry.

"It's okay," Louis replies, "Hey, is it alright if I sleep with you tonight?" Louis asks, and by the raise of Harry's eyebrow, he knows he taken it differently than he's meant to, "I mean, like, it's really cold out here on the couch and your bed is really huge. Only if you want to." 

"Of course," Harry finally says, smiling from ear to ear.

"Great, I'll go clean my makeup off and change and I'll be in your room," Louis says, getting off the couch and heading toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Louis found himself opening the door to Harry's darkened room, sneaking through the doorway and to he king size bed. Without making too much noise, Louis crawls under the blankets next to Harry, re situating his pillows to his own comfort. 

"Goodnight, Louis," Harry says allowed, alarming Louis because he didn't even know he was awake.

"'Night, Harry, sweet dreams." Louis replies from the other side of the bed.

"I don't need to dream, I've already got you." Harry mumbles quietly into his pillow, hoping Louis didn't hear, but sadly, Louis had the hearing of a supersonic dog. 

That was probably the best thing Louis had ever gone to sleep hearing before bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed ! :)


	5. five

Most of Harry's time for the rest of the week was spent occupied in front of the typewriter, poised upright on the stool in front of the kitchen counter. The writing was coming along swimmingly, Harry working on it for hours a day while Louis took care of the house and ran errands. Louis had basically become Harry's little housewife, attending him with different meals and taking up the status of the house. 

Thankfully this only last for a few days, Harry finishing off the article on Tuesday night after most of the city of New York was asleep. Harry typed in the last sentence, pounding the period key dramatically and feeling adrenaline rush through his veins as he plucked the last piece of paper from the top of the typewriter and into the stack.

"Louis!" Harry called up, getting up from the stool, "Louis, c'mere! It's done, the article, it's finished!"

Stumbling through the kitchen, Louis came up behind Harry, breathless, "What? Are you serious? Let me read it!" Louis exclaimed, rushing toward the stack of papers and picking them up.

Harry watched as Louis' eyes scanned from left to write over the black letters, his lips slightly mouthing the words as he read along. He took a seat on the stool after a while, licking his finger to flip through the pages that were all about himself. No doubt, Louis was beaming from ear to ear as he read over the article. Harry lingered around, watching Louis peruse the pages through the his eyelashes. About ten minutes later, Louis was re stacking the pages in order and turning to Harry, his eyes brimming with tears.

"So, what did you think?" Harry asked before giving Louis the chance to give him feedback by himself.

"I don't even know what to say," Louis remarked, on the brink of tears, "I'm sorry, I'm trying not to cry," Louis said turning away.

"Was it that bad?" Harry asked, moving toward him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" Louis insisted, "Your article was probably one of the best things I have ever read, ever, and the fact that it was about me made it so much better," Louis says, his lips curling back into a smile, "No one has ever said anything so nice about me before."

"That's a shame," Harry gushed, "I think you deserve all the love and attention in the world." 

Louis didn't respond to this statement, just nodding his head and grinning at Harry, "I'm going to head off to bed, goodnight, Harry." 

"I'll be in later, I need to make a few calls," Harry replied, waving awkwardly at Louis, "Goodnight and sweet dreams, if you do fall asleep before I end up stumbling into bed."

"Thanks, you too," Louis responded, exiting the room.

When Harry heard their bedroom door close, he lunged for the telephone that was attached to the wall, his finger jumping from key to key as he dialed Liam's home number. London time was 5 hours ahead of New York, meaning it was about 6 am on a Wednesday morning. Harry decided that his usually ethical boss should be awake by now, so he went through with the call, pressing the phone up to his ear as he listened to the ringing on the other end.

"Harry! How are you on this fine Wednesday morning?" Liam asked in a chipper tone.

"I'm great, how are you?" 

"That's great to hear. I'm better now that you called, I assume you have good news to tell me about?" 

"Yes, yes I do. The writing is finished and ready to revised and published!" Harry exclaims, feeling his stomach pool with excitement as he says this.

"Wonderful! How about I arrange a flight back to London for you tomorrow? I'd love to get this article on the stands by the end of next week," Liam insisted, Harry's heart sinking.

"That would be great, sir, but what about Louis? He had just as much involvement in this as I did," Harry stated, twisting the phone cord between his fingers.

Liam sighs on the other end, and after that it's silent for a couple minutes, until he gives in, "Fine, I'll order a second ticket."

"Oh, thank you so much, Liam! I'll see you soon!" Harry squeals.

"No problem, kid. I'll let you go, I've got to jet anyway, I have to get to work early today. See you later!" And with that, Harry hears the line go dead and hanging the phone back up on the wall receiver. 

Excitedly, Harry slid off the stool in front of the counter, hurriedly lugging the typewriter off of the counter top and back into its ginormous case. Harry tucked the papers of the article into a binder where they would be safe from any type of accidents, stowing the binder into the typewriter case. He then remembered that Zayn wanted to read the article, and that he would have to stop by his place prior to arriving at the airport. 

Harry started thinking about the airport again and how much he disliked it, but then he recalled that he would be with Louis, and hopefully that would make the trip back to London more pleasant. _Louis_ , Harry hadn't even thought about what Louis would say or if he even wanted to go to London in the first place. Harry smacked himself on the forehead, rushing to their bedroom and slowly swinging the door open to see Louis lying content in bed. His eyes drifting over to Harry, whom was standing in the doorway.

"Off the phone already?" Louis asked, sitting against the headboard.

"Yeah, about that," Harry said, sauntering over to the edge of the bed, his backside slumping into the down mattress, "This is really far fetched, and well, it's kind of crazy, but would you like to go back to London, with me? I mean, for the best interest of the article, so you could see how it flourishes within the town. You know, if you want."

Louis stares at Harry blankly for a second, letting the information he just told him sink in.

"How long would we be in London?" 

"However long you want. A day, a week, a couple months, forever." 

"And, and we'd just, leave this place? Forever?"

"Yes, Louis, I already told you this wasn't my permanent home. I have a pathetic little shack back in London that's waiting for me, and possibly you, if you want to come."

"But what about my job?" Louis inquires.

"With the article, I'm sure you could get a job anywhere you wanted back in London."

"Is that a guarantee though?"

"Maybe, it's a 50/50 shot. Oh, come on Louis, just ask Paul for Friday off and you can test out the waters, see how you like it in England. It's so wonderful there Louis, oh, you'd just love it. I promise," Harry pleads, practically sticking out his bottom lip in protest.

Louis ponders for a bit, weighing his options of continuing his life as normal or to jump and take that chance of being something great. Louis taps his chin, taking his sweet time as Harry watches him, his hopefulness fading to dust before Louis answers, "When's our flight?"

Harry practically squeals, launching himself on top of Louis, "This is going to be fantastic! I promise!" Harry mumbled out, his voice becoming increasingly inaudible as his excitement swelled in his chest. "Liam will call tomorrow and give us the information for the flight, and he'll have the tickets faxed over more than likely. Oh! I'm so excited, I could-" Harry cuts himself off, noticing how incredibly close his and Louis' faces were, and how uncomfortable that made the current situation and his choice of words, "I'm so excited I could scream," He finished.

"Well you already have been screaming for the last five minutes, I bet the neighbors downstairs are phoning the police as we speak."

"Oh, I wasn't _that_ loud, I'm sure," Harry shrugs, letting the room quieten for a second before he starts again, "I just can't believe I'm going back home, after all this time here in New York. I'm not even going to be able to give this place a proper goodbye."

"Maybe you don't have to. I'll have to come back sooner or later, but you could visit every once in a while, if you'd like?"

"Where would you stay?" Harry asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not sure, I'd eventually find somewhere."

"But what if you never do? I couldn't let you couch hop every night, or even worse, be homeless. If things go over well, maybe you could eternally stay there, and we could be, like, lifelong roommates." 

"As great as that sounds, I just don't know right now. I'm sorry, Harry, can we talk about this in the morning? It's been a really long day."

"Of course, goodnight Louis," Harry smiles, getting up off the bed and grabbing a pair of pajamas, quickly putting them on and crawling into his bed in New York for the last time ever.

\--

The New York sun was splitting through the white curtains of the master bedroom, light dancing across the room as Harry awoke to the sound of the telephone once again. Yawning, Harry stretched behind him, putting the device to his ear and mumbling out, "Hello?"

"It's the big day Harry! You're coming back to London!" Liam exclaimed on the other end with glee.

"I know, I'm thrilled to return home," Harry replied, his voice monotone, "Did you order the plane tickets for two?"

"Yes I did, give them your name and provide some type of authentication and they'll give them to you at the airport," Liam states, "So Louis decided to come after all?"

Louis began to stir in his sleep, so Harry lowered his tone, "He did. The convincing part took quite a while, but in due course, I got him to accept the offer, and a wonderful one at that."

"This is marvelous! I can't wait to meet him. You two can drop by the office tomorrow morning since you probably won't arrive back home until tonight, so I'll give you the night off."

"What time should we be home?" Harry asked, twisting the phone cord between his fingers.

"Around seven or eight tonight."

"Alright, great, thanks Liam, I have to get going now, but I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

"Your flight's at noon!" Was the last thing Liam said, the phone clicking and signifying that he had hung up.

Harry sat in silence for a couple seconds, his chest welling up with anticipation for the day to come. He checked the time on the clock on the wall, seeing that it was already eight in the morning, and thinking that in just twelve hours he could be back home in his own bed surrounded by his own bedroom walls and his own familiar sound of the London streets.

"Louis, wake up, it's the big day," Harry said, poking Louis in the side repeatedly until his eyes fluttered awake.

Louis lay in bed for a couple minutes before he spoke, "I'm going to London today."

"That's right," Harry smiled, "Actually, _we're_ going to London today, and soon. We need to leave for the airport in a little less than three hours." Harry stated, but then he remembered that they had to stop by Zayn's apartment on the way, "Wait, scratch that, we still have to see Zayn."

"And I have to call Paul," Louis ponders, pushing himself up from the fluffy pillow, "I guess I'll get that out of the way right now, switch spots with me."

Harry stood up from his New York mattress for the final time, glancing at the ruffled sheets that would never be ruffled by his body ever again.

Louis moved himself over to the spot where Harry just was, taking the phone off of it's holder and dialing in the number to Paul's residence. Harry's head was elsewhere, only hearing tidbits of Louis' conversation with his boss, as he gathered clothes from his closet and tossed them on the bed. Harry smiled to himself, his mind racing with different thoughts of different things, but mostly thoughts of London and thoughts of being domestic with Louis.

Paul wasn't happy with Louis' need for a day off at first, but he gave in after Louis' constant pleads. 

The next two hours were spent cleaning and packing, added with more cleaning, and definitely a lot more packing. Harry could feel himself sweating through his shirt as he sat on top of his suitcase, jamming its paraphernalia into the crammed space of the luggage. Louis had packed his things right off the bat, spending the rest of his time at the temporary home making sure everything was spotless before they left. 

When everything was stowed away into its proper place, both in luggage and in the penthouse, Harry and Louis found themselves locking the doors for the last time. 

A trip down the elevator and a cab ride later, Harry and Louis found themselves knocking on the door of Zayn's apartment, being greeted by the boy with raven hair and brown eyes for the only remaining span.

"I'm glad you actually stopped by," Zayn said, taking the paper from Harry's hands, "I'm excited to read this."

"I'm excited for you to read it too," Harry grins, taking a seat next to Louis on the couch across from Zayn, who was sitting in an armchair. 

Zayn finished reading the article after about ten minutes, his eyes watering as he handed it back to Harry, "Truly beautiful, and I can't believe I was the one who fire started this whole thing. I'm so proud of all of us," Zayn wept dramatically, pulling both Harry and Louis up from the couch and into a group hug. They stood like that for what felt like forever, the three taking in the warmth of each other until it was time to go,

"I might be back soon, don't miss me too much," Louis laughed, wiping his eyes.

"Good, but what about you, Harry? Plan on coming back?"

"Sooner or later," Harry nodded, "I've grown to love this place too much, I could never not come back."

"I anticipate the day of your return," Zayn said confidently, sniffling up the last bit of sadness, "I guess you must be on your way now, even if I don't want you to be."

"We'll keep in touch," Louis insists, giving Zayn one last hug before they leave.

The cab ride to the airport is full of pointing and nostalgia, mostly from Louis because he was leaving his hometown for the first time ever. Even though this city had everything Louis could ever dream of, he thought that maybe once he got to London, that could be his new home, and his chance for a fresh start. 

Harry, on the other hand, was indicating Louis to all the spots where they had been before, like _The Polka Dot_ and the boardwalk and the burlesque club, until they finally reached the airport.

Going through the airport was a piece of cake, they got their tickets on time and boarded the plane when they were supposed to, and they spent eight hours in the air as planned. They landed in London around a half hour into seven at night, ditching the plane for a cab back to Harry's run down shack that belonged to the elderly couple that was supporting.

His homecoming was a surprise, Harry knocking on the door and being greeted by a look of astonishment. The woman wrapped him into a hug, giving Harry a kiss on the cheek as she stumbled him inside. Louis patiently waited on the porch, all of their luggage by his side. 

"Mrs. Austin, I brought someone back from New York with me if that's alright," Louis heard Harry from inside.

"Oh, the more the merrier! I'm sure Dan will be delighted to meet them also, bring them on into the house!" The woman exclaimed.

"Louis?" Harry asked, stepping outside, motioning Louis to come into the house. Louis followed Harry, stepping into the quaint living room that was filled with an overwhelmingly amount of floral fabrics and pinkish patterns. "Louis, this is Mrs. Austin, I've been living in the small room outside of hers and her husbands home until I can afford my own place."

"Lovely to meet you sweetheart," Mrs. Austin grinned, pulling Louis into a hug, "He's a pretty one too." 

"Yeah," Harry gushed, beaming at Louis with all of the love in his body.

"Well, thank you. I must say, you have a wonderful home," Louis compliments, smiling back at the woman. 

"Oh, and he's proper too! You got yourself a keeper, young Harry," Mrs. Austin winks.

Harry blushes, "It's not like that," He responds, his voice not convincing at all.

"Of course not," Mrs. Austin winks, "Would you boys like something to eat? I'm sure it was a long flight, I mean you were coming from New York."

"Only if you cooked already, I don't want you going out of your way for us," Harry says, kicking off his shoes.

"Nonsense, I'll have to cook eventually for when Dan comes home, it shouldn't be long now. I'll head off to the kitchen, and you two boys make yourself at home, alright?" Mrs. Austin concurs, Harry and Louis agreeing with her as she goes off into the kitchen.

Now they're alone, and even though this all feels foreign to Louis, he can't help but feel at home somehow.

"You can sit down if you want," Harry says to Louis, lowering himself onto the floral couch. Louis sits down next to him, their knees touching, and before Louis knows it, he's got Harry's arm draped around his shoulders. "So, how are you liking London?" Harry asks once they're comfortable. 

"I haven't seen much of it yet, but it's really homey. I like it," Louis nods, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder.

"You'll see more tomorrow once we make it up to the offices, tonight is really the only night we'll have for relaxation if things work out, so let's enjoy it, yeah?" 

"That would be nice," Louis smiles, "This is nice."

"It is," Harry finishes, putting his head of curls atop of Louis' soft fringe.

The two of them lay like this for a while, Louis almost falling asleep until he's jolted awake by the slam of a door, and an infamous line, 'Honey, I'm home!'

A man, about the same age as Mrs. Austin, was taking off his hat at the front of the door, but stopped midway during his action when his eyes danced over where Harry was sitting. 

"Harry! You're back!" Mr. Austin announced with excitement.

Harry got off the couch, leaving Louis' side cold and empty, as he walked over to the man. Mr. Austin was beaming from ear to ear as he shook hands with Harry, asking him questions that most people ask after you've been on a long vacation. Harry returned to his spot on the couch, Mr. Austin sitting across from them in his armchair, and the two discussed New York and how wonderful it was. Louis zoned in and out of the conversation, giving his own input every once in a while. Louis smiled to himself, because as silly as it may have seemed, he felt at home.

\--

Dinner went faster than a freight train. A lovely home cooked meal was served with a side of catching up between Harry and the Austin couple. They were like parents to Harry, Louis noticed, interrogating Louis with questions about his personal life and that of the burlesque club. Louis had found out that Harry had been calling Mrs. Austin on a regular basis, filling her in on the status of their relationship, or whatever was going on between the two of them. 

After dinner, Mrs. Austin was left in the kitchen by herself, piling up the plates into her arms. Harry and Mr. Austin were heading out into the front room, but Louis stopped, giving the elderly woman a once over before saying, "Would you like a hand cleaning up the kitchen?"

Mrs. Austin smiled a sincere smile, exhaling and responding, "That's alright, deary. You're a guest here, you don't have to help me."

"But I'd like to," Louis insists, taking a couple plates from her arms, "If you'd allow me."

"I guess a little help would be nice," Mrs. Austin complies.

A comfortable silence set the room as the two worked in perfect sync, Louis retrieving the dirty dishes from all around the kitchen whilst Mrs. Austin filled up the sink with warm water and detergent. When everything was in the sink and ready to be washed, Mrs. Austin assumed the role of cleaning the dishes by hand, giving them to Louis to dry off and put in their proper spots.

Mrs. Austin made small talk, asking Louis head on about New York and how odd it must be to be suddenly thrust into a setting. Then, the conversation somehow led to Harry, because honestly, it always does.

"Harry's a sweet kid, isn't he?" Mrs. Austin asked. Louis could tell that she had intentions of getting information on how he felt about Harry, and he was totally okay with giving her that satisfaction.

"He really is, he's my lifesaver," Louis gushed dramatically.

"Oh?" She replied, sounding intrigued. 

"Yeah, of course. Without Harry, I'd still be couch hopping, and I'd still be an unrecognized talent at my workplace. I owe everything I have to him."

"Harry's that kind of person, everything he does is for everyone else around him. It's a blessing and a curse, because he spends so much time devoting his life to other people, he rarely has time to focus on what he wants himself, you know?"

"I understand what you mean," Louis abides by, nodding his head, "What is it that he wants, anyway?"

Mrs. Austin shrugs, her eyes averting from Louis' and back to the pan she was washing, "Success in his job, marriage, a nice husband, preferably someone, but yeah, mainly just success."

Louis smirks, "He already has someone in mind?"

Mrs. Austin stops washing the dishes and looks over at Louis, a sly grin across her lips, "Louis, you seem like a smart boy. Don't tell me you're _that_  oblivious."

Louis' cheeks burned, "Oblivious to what?"

"Oh, sweetheart, do you not see the way Harry looks at you? The boy dropped his peas in his lap tonight at dinner because he was too busy focusing on _you_. I thought it was obvious, but I guess I may have been wrong."

With his head spinning, Louis replied, "So he really _likes_ me?"

"No, Louis, he really _loves_ you," Mrs. Austin finished, a heartwarming expression settling on her face.

"That's...this is really great!" Louis exclaims a little too loudly, "I love him too, even more than I could ever tell you!" He yells again, but then composes himself, "I apologize for that little outburst, it's just a little alarming when you find out that someone out there actually loves you back."

"It's alright, deary," Mrs. Austin assures, "Have you broken the news to him, yet?"

Louis shakes his head.

"You must do that tonight, but when you two are in private. Tell him everything you feel for him, he'll be ecstatic. This is all he's ever wanted, Louis. _You're_ all he's ever wanted."

"Thank you, for everything tonight, Mrs. Austin," Louis said, kissing the elderly woman on the cheek after they finished up the dishes.

"Any time, now go get him, Louis, and don't ever let him go," Mrs. Austin winks, patting Louis on the back and sending him out of the kitchen to his new destiny. 

\--

Hours of talking later, Harry was leading Louis out from the front door of the Austin residence. The time was a quarter passed midnight, and the street lamps above were illuminating the sidewalks and the quaint homes that decorated the neighborhood. The dew on the grass was still visible from the rain that had let up about an hour earlier, and the streets were still damp from the storm. The air was perfect, setting a peaceful mood for the spring London night.

Harry had his hand pressed against the small of Louis' back, creating a feeling of warmth beneath his shirt. Louis believed this was the perfect time to initiate the conversation he was dying to have with Harry, but he didn't know where he should even start.

Thankfully, he wasn't the first to say something. Harry spoke up before him, swallowing the lump in his throat and saying a simple, "I'm sorry, Louis."

Bumfuzzled, Louis asked, "Why's that?"

"Remember that thing you told me not to do when I first met you?" Harry stopped on the sidewalk, half of his face lit by the lights above, "Well, I sort of broke that promise."

Louis knitted his eyebrows in confusion, "Remind me of what that was again, I can't seem to recall."

"You told me not to fall in love with you, and well, here I am," Harry exhaled a laugh, raising his shoulders and then letting them fall.

"Are you telling me that you're in love with me?" 

"If you don't want me to be, then no, I'm not. We'll just forget this whole thing ever happened, because, I'm totally not head over heels for you or anything like that."

"Lucky for you," Louis stepped closer, their faces so close that if this were a middle school dance, a nun would be harassing them with a ruler at the moment, "I just happened to have broken that promise myself, because from the second I saw you, I knew you were worth falling in love with, even if I ended up heartbroken."

At this moment, a drop of water falls from the sky and onto Louis' cheek, making him screw up his face.

Harry laughs, wiping the raindrop from Louis' face, "Looks like the London rain is about to get us."

"Maybe I like it," Louis replies lamely, but he really can't think at the moment, because him and Harry are sinfully close and Harry's hand is currently resting on his cheek.

"Maybe I should kiss you now, and we could be like every other cliche couple that kisses in the rain," Harry teases.

"It's only cliche if you think it is," Louis finishes, closing his eyes and meeting his lips with Harry's. The kiss is perfect, their lips touching as soon as the rain begins to downpour for the second time that evening. Neither of them notice that much, Harry's hands in Louis' hair, pulling him closer to the kiss. Louis' hands are exploring Harry's back, eventually finding a resting spot on his lower back. 

They stay out there until they're completely soaked, the rain not letting up any time soon. Harry finally breaks away from the kiss, pecking Louis on the cheek and muttering his love for him about a million times until he insists that they go inside. Harry dumbly takes off his coat and holds it over Louis' head in an attempt to keep him dry, but obviously, Louis gets even wetter than before. Louis insists that Harry is an idiot, but he still loves him in spite of that, which he does.

\--

Things fell into their place following the events of that night, the duo waking up quite early and quite sore from a night of bliss, getting dressed at lightening speed and heading to Harry's office building. Liam loved the article, as expected, and published it the following week. The article spread like wildfire, Louis being the word of mouth for several days. Jobs were offered left and right, things as big as movies and permanent dance roles in popular television shows swarming Louis by the hour. 

Nonetheless, the article was a huge success for Louis' career.

Louis decided to call Paul one evening to discontinue his job at the Burlesque club because, really, if Paul couldn't recognize his talent until a dire emergency, he didn't really need him anyway. Paul was saddened by this news, sadly realizing that he had wasted the best potential that had ever set foot into his run down Burlesque club. Paul eventually accepted Niall back as front man, but nothing was ever the same as it was before Louis' rise to fame.

Harry, on the other hand, got great things from this also. A job promotion was in Harry's future, and he took up the title of London's best creative writer and reviewer for the paper. Liam was honored to give him the promotion, seeing how well he manufactured his own creative piece, and was fairly excited to see what else he had in store.

As for Louis and Harry as a whole, they in due course got wed. It was a small celebration in the backyard of the Austin's home, only a couple people being invited. Zayn even flew all the way from New York, and maybe he now he a romance of his own with Harry's extremely sweet and extremely perfect boss, Liam, but that's a whole other story. 

With all the money Louis and Harry acquired as a whole, they moved from the tiny shed outside of the Austin's home to their own place in downtown London, a suburban penthouse with everything they could ever dream of. They also offered to buy the Austin's a new home, but they declined, claiming that they would rather live out the rest of their days in a place they saw as home. The Austin's stayed in touch with the new Styles family of two, often inviting them for dinner or just time to spend as a family. 

All in all, everything was a great success. Harry frequently revisited these memories, smiling to himself as he looked at the life he had now, and all he had done to achieve it. Sometimes he would think what would have happened if he hadn't chased after Louis, taking that leap and asking for a second chance at everything. This thought alone was enough to put a pit at the bottom of his stomach, but Harry was okay again when he was holding Louis in his sleep, or while he was watching him perform on stage or television, and most importantly, when they were saying their vows under the flower knitted arch in the small backyard.

Harry realized that no matter what would have happened, everything would have fallen into place eventually. That was the magic of destiny, and if it weren't for him being a writer and Louis being a dancer, they would have met anyway and fallen in love. In some sort of alternative universe, Harry still would have realized that Louis was really worth it, and that he would have to reach for a second opportunity to obtain him in any way he could.

He was never a firm believer in destiny until these events happened, but now he was convinced. Harry couldn't imagine a life any different, a life without Louis or a life without his own achievements.

In the end, Harry and Louis got everything they ever wanted, and more, and more, even more.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! xx

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed, I have a family to feed. Think of the children.


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